


Rest Your Heavy Soul

by chewingonpearls (Reallife)



Category: 2 Broke Girls, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Family is important, Friendship, PTSD, Playing with tropes, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Southern Darcy, Tripp lives, females supporting each other is important, friendship before romance, very vague torture scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7973878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reallife/pseuds/chewingonpearls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people's lives revolve around finding and being with their Soulmates. Darcy Maxine Lewis has spent her whole life believing that meeting her soulmate would be life threatening, and she would spend her life without him. She has built her life around other things, school, friends, work, family and she has come so very <i>close</i> to it not defining her. But like the old saying goes, close only counts in horse shoes, hand grenades, and the back of a 64' Chevy, and everyone knows that the more you hate something and try and distance yourself from it, the closer it is to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (some notes)

[](http://s1039.photobucket.com/user/Keri_Boone/media/cover2-Recovered.jag_zpst4md3pnx.jpg.html)

Hello everyone! Thank you for stopping by my fic! I want to cover a few things before you get started. Blanket statement: Everything but the last two chapters is beta'd by [Musichowler](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Musichowler/pseuds/Musichowler)

the second to last by [CinnaAtHeart](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnaAtHeart/pseuds/CinnaAtHeart)

1) This was previously titled **Love Stuff** , it was taken down, revisited revised and rejuvenated. I am the original author, and barring anymore unforeseen extreme circumstances this will not be taken down again.

2)  
This is my first cover for fic of mine and first playlist, so please tell me what you think! There are links to 8tracks and Youtube below just in case one doesn’t work for you.

3)There is a scene with not quite torture but very nearly, but I do not go into gruesome detail. All the same there will be a heads up at the beginning of the chapter.

4)There are comic book references in this fic, just because it’s hard for me not to do so. X-23 (Laura Kinney) and Gambit (Remy Lebeau) are featured prominently in the last two chapters. Remy has been in one movie, X-23 has not been in any, she’s an amazing character and I tried to introduce her in a way that doesn’t alienate non fans.

5)There are some references to the TV Show 2 Broke Girls, as Caroline is from that show. Sort of like inside jokes, if you are a fan you will find them extra endearing or funny, but hopefully if you are not, again you will not feel alienated.

6)This is not a romance centric fic. It has it in the beginning but gradually moves away from that to more Plot/Character development focused. It also has a fair amount of angst and introspection.

7)Lastly. Timeline wise this is after Dark World but before AoU or Civil War, disregard all of the X-Men movie timelines (because I despise those movies except a few casting choices), and comics wise this is AFTER the Death of Wolverine, after Laura has dyed her hair but before she officially becomes Wolverine. With me? Okay cool. Lets go then.

[Rest Your Heavy Soul Playlist](http://8tracks.com/awkwardnormalcy/rest-your-heavy-soul-playlist?utm_medium=referral&utm_content=mix-page&utm_campaign=embed_button) from [awkwardnormalcy](http://8tracks.com/awkwardnormalcy?utm_medium=referral&utm_content=mix-page&utm_campaign=embed_button) on [8tracks Radio](http://8tracks.com?utm_medium=referral&utm_content=mix-page&utm_campaign=embed_button).

Or [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLKdnUmr5Act1HHD8q4aGCWaX2W2Ok2wNM)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty so yes, this did end on a cliffhanger. You may be displeased with me but if you knew how much this story changed from my first draft (it was originally just a hella angsty and dramatic one shot believe it or not) you would just be impressed I finished it for real for real.
> 
> There is a sequel planned but I don't know when it will come out. I am very engrossed in a Supernatural/MCU/616!Verse/Leverage crossover right now and to be honest I got pretty burnt out in this 'verse. I will also not be posting it when it is partially completed, done or bust. Feel free to randomly flail at me on tumblr about any and all nerdy things @bagofgroceries.


	2. This is where it starts

I'm bound for the broken Promise land  
To meet my demons and get back my Upper hand

Being Soulmates has very few guarantees by it’s nature. It promises you will meet this person, that even before you speak to them that you will know them, even if you don’t realize it. Soulmates are where the myth of ‘love at first sight’ comes from. It’s not just words of course, if that were the case many would be in trouble, with generic words like “Excuse me” or “Fries with that?” or words said when they could barely be heard in crowds. There were different types of bonds of course, just as varied as the people that formed them. All soulmate pairs had a _sense_ of one another though, empathy to a varying degree exists in all, along with bits and pieces of when they will one day meet their soulmate. Some people can just tell you, with a knowing smile that it will be during the day, and nothing more. Others can tell you the emotions that they will be feeling, along with the other person.

Once a pair have bonded properly their connection is of course, more acute, more intense and honed. Though what it takes for a pair (or triad) to bond also varied, for some it was an innocent connection of sweet words are shared, and for others it is much more sexual. The only thing that is consistent is the contact of the marks, and some sort of connection both physical and emotional. Sex alone wouldn’t cut it.

Studies have been done of course, scientists and institutions have spent lifetimes trying to figure it out. No one has come up with a quantifiable explanation. Magazines and talk show hosts will tell you that what you are able to gleam before meeting your soulmate reflects your personality. Introvert or extrovert. What type of learner you are, all kinds of things that range from eerily accurate to face-palmingly hokey. Can you feel their emotions? Do you know when they are hurt? In some missing person’s cases soulmates have been able to find their missing half when they were kidnapped. Normally such accuracy would only work with pairs that have already bonded however, but there are always exceptions.

There were two types of soulmate bonds, platonic and romantic. They have no visible difference, but they _feel_ different, in a way that is hard for most people to describe. Some say one is like returning home and the other is like finding a new one. Some pairs of platonic soulmates have turned it into romantic, and many with positive results. However it is very rare for romantic soulmates to be able to be ‘just friends’, there was nearly always a physical draw(the exception being asexual pairs, which fate seemed to easily work with, though the need was still there just a little different) that became almost painful. Even pairs who had tried to make it work and found their personalities clashed and were unstable together had jealousy issues, finding it absolutely necessary to put a great deal of distance between them.

Most will tell you that it’s not love of course at first, but it is some form of magnetism, a pull of incessant need to listen to the person or be near them. Many Soulmate pairs in history didn’t work out but rarely were they lacking in chemistry.

What happened from there, well.

That was beyond even fate.

~*~  
_Darcy and Caroline were 17 when Caroline decided to celebrate the girls getting accepted into their first choice of colleges. It’s not that either of them were particularly sheltered or ‘good girls’, but Darcy’s father would never abide her going to this sort of place, even if she didn’t have the glaring words on her thigh._

_It’s called The Wreck Room, and it sat squarely at the unofficial(but totally official) entrance to the gay district of Charlotte, North Carolina. It’s 16 to enter, and at midnight everyone under 18 gets kicked out. There are drag shows every Friday and Saturday night, no drinking except the red bull and soda they sell(and vodka if you know the right people or have a great rack), smoking on the back porch(you gotta be blind, deaf and dumb to not get pot there). There are also teens in skinny jeans and wickedly muscular men(who like younger girls obviously) doing amazing displays with poi and glow sticks, so there’s ecstasy everywhere because you haven’t really seen glow sticks until you’ve seen them while you’re rolling._

_There was a thrill of excitement that shot up her spine when Caroline’s car is parked in front of the place and there is a feeling in the back of her mind (the part that has always felt more shared that her’s alone) that seemed to stir._  
~*~  
Darcy Maxine Lewis was born June 9th 1990 to Colonel Jacob Lewis of the US Marines and his wife Josephine Lewis. It was cold, but that was more due to the fact that her first cries are at 2AM than anything else. Her father instantly adored his daughter, who appeared to have been born with a wig on her head.

His happiness was only dampened when he read the words on his daughter’s tiny, chubby leg.

_Bleeding you dry isn’t part of my mission, but I’ll do it anyway doll._

The feelings of joy in his chest were instantly replaced by his heart plummeting into his gut. Who wants to read something like that on the skin of someone they love? An almost overpowering sense of resolve filled him between one breath and the next; no one was going to hurt his baby girl, his Darcy  
~*~  
_Caroline dressed Darcy. For someone who grew up rich and with all the toys she could ever possibly want, she enjoyed treating her best friend like a doll. They had gone shopping, because Caroline’s ‘allowance’ was her father’s way of apologizing for never being around, and Darcy was far past feeling awkward about that fact. That’s how Darcy found herself shifting from one bright red gogo boot to another in line to get in, wearing a strapless black dress that showed her soulmark(Caroline assured her it was too dark for anyone to read it) but it didn’t stop her from pulling the hem of the dress down constantly. The flimsy excuse for clothing squished her tits together and up, as if that was necessary, but her friend had insisted on going ‘all out’ which apparently meant all of _her_ would be bursting out of her clothes_

_Caroline paid the cover and dragged her friend inside, where they were assaulted by music so loud they couldn’t hear the words and flashing lights that reflected off the vinyl of her shoes. More disconcerting than that though, was the feeling in the back of her mind, that she wasn’t here but she was._

~*~  
Josephine remained dutifully optimistic about her daughter’s soulmark, even in the face of sympathetic looks and a tense husband. When she would catch her daughter’s eyes lingering on the text or hand clenching over her jeans she would pat her head, “Maybe you are in a play with him.” Depending on Darcy’s mood, sometimes it is a brief comfort, sometimes it just sounds empty.

The woman considers herself an _artist_ , she taught her daughter to crochet, to knit, and to take beautiful pictures. They develop them in a darkroom that her husband built for her, because if the worst turns out to be true then she doesn’t want it to ruin her daughter’s smile--her goodness. Darcy would recover from those wretched words when they are finally spoken, because her daughter is beautiful, intelligent, and kind.

In her heart of hearts though, she believed in soulmarks. The Colonel and her were matched, and her more whimsical spirit brought out his softer side, an effect she would be proud of until she died. As Darcy grew however, Josephine watched that side of her husband recede in his fear and protectiveness over their daughter. It was chilling, and every night she reminded herself that he is doing the same thing as she with her crafts. Protecting her. Making sure she would survive.

~*~  
_Four red bulls and about an hour passed with relative fun had by all when she felt it. The prickling in the back of her mind went from annoying to intense between one heartbeat and the next. **He was here**. The thought was loud in her mind, as if she were yelling it at herself. It felt like when they were flying, and the cabin pressure changed, as if there was a physical pressure on her chest and in her ears. An alertness filled her that had nothing to do with the energy drinks and everything to do with an almost overpowering need to find him._

 _Her father would be livid. Ashamed at her lack of self control, at her carelessness. If she was being rational she would grab Caroline and high tail it outside, or call someone to get them. Instead, driven more by instinct than logic she stepped deeper into the crowd. Towards him, and a part of herself._  
~*~

The Colonel had found in his experience, that hiding in a foxhole covered in your friend’s blood caused you to question your faith. At that point, somewhere in your mind, you either found Faith or you pushed it away.

It would surprise no one, that he had pushed it away. It was awkward sometimes, because he was from a southern family, but they were also a grounded folk whose motto toward God tended more towards _”Pray to Jesus, but play the lotto”_.

Whoever is up there has long forgotten about him, but maybe they haven’t forgotten about his little girl. Darcy was gifted with 13 years of a fairly innocent childhood.

Then the nightmares started.

Just like any protective, _normal_ father would, he pulled his browning from under his pillow and ran to her room. For years to come he would hear her screams in his head over and over again, and in his nightmares he would not find her twisting in her bed alone but with a gun at her head or a knife in her belly.

Darcy’s knuckles were white when she clutched at his shoulders, her eyes suddenly far too old, far too early.

“He’s a soldier daddy, and he’s _falling_ ”

~*~

_As a needle always finds north, so did Darcy find her soulmate._

_It wasn’t like those movies where the crowd suddenly seems to part so the girl can get a good look at the guy for the first time. It also wasn’t one of those movie moments where there seems to be a bubble of silence because all the two main characters can focus on each other, where the world narrows down to just them and time seems to slow to a stand still._

_Except that was how it felt, to her at least._

_There was something clawing out of her chest to **go now, get to him** but he looked so stiff and was dressed exactly how her father and her feared he would be dressed. Like a soldier. Not in normal army fatigues either, but black vests boots with a sturdy vest on that was probably bullet proof but it was hard for her to tell in the dark._

_There was a coldness to him, she could feel it, like it resonated with her even in the hot building with the press of sweaty drugged up teenagers everywhere. It made her ache._

_The man fate had ‘chosen’ for her didn’t acknowledge her existence, just shoved through the crowd to get to the exit. He didn’t notice when she stepped towards him. It was stupid. It was reckless._

_But when his shoulder collided with her’s and he still hadn’t fucking looked at her she snapped,_

_“Hey just because you have a nice jaw doesn’t mean you can be rude.” Alright. So it wasn’t the best opening. But as he approached through the intermittent flashing lights she had noticed he was good looking, and she had always had a thing for men with nice jawlines. Darcy was also known for her brain to mouth filter breaking when she was nervous, or angry. He wasn’t speaking to her, or even making eye contact, but she could feel him with other senses. A presence in her mind that was always there, that seemed to wake up with him so close._

_Even though her skin hadn’t touched his, Darcy felt a jolt on contact. Like the lens on a camera that was being shifted, he seemed to come into focus, the stubble on his chin, the cold blue of eyes, the set of his shoulders. He felt it as well, she could see it in the stiffening of his shoulders, the twitch on his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes. The presence in the back of her mind that she now recognized as **him** seemed to give a happy stretch at his nearness._

_A hand around her throat then, tight enough to make her heart race but not enough so she cannot speak. No one looks twice at them, people have seen stranger here._

_Then he says her words. Voice deep and husky, lacking the accent of most people in this area._

_He is wearing gloves but she feels a chill run down her spine, goosebumps spreading across her flesh, and she gasps. His eyes narrowed in suspicion at the electricity between them, as if it’s her fault_

~*~  
Darcy’s mother is not a southerner by birth, she hails from California, the only child of only children, pacifists who thrived in the artistry of San Francisco. As far as anyone can recollect, she’s the first person to Soulmatch into the Lewis family from West of the Mason Dixon line(though there was that man from Montana, who got a pass for some reason). While the three of them traveled often, they always came back to the South, so naturally Josephine learned about three traditions the Lewis family had managed to uphold.

Farming--some of her new relatives still lived on giant stretches of land with cows and chickens. Even the ones that were more city dwellers had vegetables and herbs growing in every free space. A Lewis(she quickly learned) had a preternatural sense of other people who grew things, and upon moving to a new area could automatically find the neighbors who they could trade produce with.

Patriotism is a big deal to the Lewis family, when Josephine announced at a reunion that her baby girl(still a literal baby at the time) would **not** be going off to die for a corrupt government even the other children stopped making noise. Later, when the awkward silence passed and they were alone, her husband promised that Darcy would never be pressured to enlist, and she believed him. Still, most children sang nursery rhymes when they jumped rope, Darcy and her cousins marked time with (mostly) censored songs as if they were in Basic training.

Children--her husband is one of five, and the only one of his siblings to only have one child. Privately, she theorized it had to do with the other two traditions, you needed hands for the farm, and more hands to replace those when War came. On the upside, her daughter had a legion of protective Aunts, Uncles, and cousins who valued family above all else.

The California woman was not prepared to take to these traditions like her daughter took to baking, but at the very least she tried to be accepting and see the good in them. Fresh eggs were the best, protective cousins to follow her daughter on dates were always appreciated, and nothing beat shopping on base. 

Josephine knew that there were things that her daughter saw at night--and sometimes during the day--that she tells her father but not her. They didn’t hide this from her, but it was unspoken that Josephine was not built for whatever was happening to Darcy. It wasn’t an insult, just an assessment, and an accurate one. They tried to keep the nightmares hidden from the rest of the family, but they failed, as one always does when keeping secrets from those closest.

They do not come every night, and there are weeks that are free of her daughter suddenly pausing as if she is in pain in the middle of a simple task. Josephine knew that she was remembering something that she shouldn’t. Fate was not an easy dancing partner, but Darcy handled it with a tough sort of grace that was an amalgam of both her parents. As the years progressed, she kept her kind heart. It made her mother positively glow with pride.

For a woman who preferred Bob Dylan and The Beatles, she was oddly comfortable with her mother daughter cupcake hour taking place after Darcy got back from the range with her father. Life fit together in weird ways sometimes.

~*~

_  
His face hadn’t changed. Not with her back pressed against a bathroom stall, legs wrapped around his hips with his head buried in the crook of her neck. There are things she knew about him, more like intuition than actual knowledge. It was an assault on her senses, his as well, she could **feel** that. Beyond the way her skin seared under his touch, wanting more more more, back arching towards him with a hunger for more of his touch, her mind and heart were keening at his nearness._

_A restless part of her was in overdrive and she practically wanted to purr at having what was missing so close. Which was_ insane.

~*~

Caroline lounged on Darcy’s bed, while said girl shuffled around college pamphlets on the comforter and scrutinized them like they held the secrets of the universe. The blonde gave an exasperated sigh as she rolled onto her back. Unlike her bestie, Caroline knew exactly where she was going for school and what she would be studying.

“Culver.” Caroline knew that voice, that’s the ‘Darcy Has Made a Decision Which is Now The Law Of The Universe’ voice. Finally.

“Isn’t that the school the Hulk smashed up a couple years ago?” Out of the two, one of them had always had better self preservation instincts than the other. It definitely wasn’t the one who wanted to attend the green rage monster’s alma mater that was for sure.

“Yes. It also has one of the best Anthropology programs in the country. They offered me some great scholarships for my grades, even more when they found out that most of my dad’s family is in the military.”

“Shouldn’t it worry you, that the school seems to get so many students scouted by various government agencies? Since when do you want to sell your soul to the government like your pops?”

“I’m not. But if I want to do anything, if I want to cause change, then an Alphabet agency is a decent place to start.” A chastising finger then, “Don’t you start with me about selling my soul, you would have capitalism’s baby if you could.”

Darcy easily blocked the pillow thrown at her face with the ease of familiarity, “Well when I am lounging on my own private island with my degree from Wharton I’ll invite you when you take a break from your non-profit or wherever you are slumming it..”

Caroline did not dodge the tickle attack that came after. The girls were pretty opposite, but somehow it had worked out in their favor.

~*~

_There is a hunger in his eyes that seems to echo outwards into her bones. He refused to kiss her, kept his hand around her neck, pinning her against the rickety bathroom stall in a way that left no room for argument. Darcy was raised to be a strong woman who wasn’t afraid to punch back, but also knew when patience was the better part of valor. Or something, her grasp of rational thought was as weak as her knees that shook around him._

_Through her haze she felt that he was quivering to, even as he nuzzled into her hair, taking deep breaths as if he just came up for air after being underwater too long. The man before her was damaged, jagged and broken into pieces that had been sloppily glued back together. Calloused hands clung to her like a lifeline, hands never stopping their roving over her body like he was memorizing her._

~*~  
Two pairs of blue eyes scanned over the pages on the dining room table nervously, checking for errors **again** or anything that could be missing to increase their appeal as applicants.

Amused, the older Lewis woman just sets her daughter’s coffee in front of her along with Caroline’s tea. The two teens have been fussing for hours over their applications, before switching and over analyzing each others instead. Normally her husband would have assured them in a way that left no more room for insecurities(because empty flattery was not his way and they knew that) but he was at Camp Lejune for a few months.

So she leaves the girls to their stress, it was partly their fault anyway. Most students applied to several schools to keep their options open, and in case they weren’t accepted at some. Darcy and Caroline were so focused on Culver and Wharton respectively that they were only applying to those schools.  
Well, no one could fault them for their determination at least. They were going to get what their hearts were set on or die trying. Or something equally as dramatic but less fatal at least.

~*~  
_  
Fingers trace over the words on her thigh and Darcy shudders, eyes squeezed shut so tight they hurt because they’ve hardly done anything but it’s too much. One of his gloves is off, and his hands are rough as they tug on her soft skin. There is a part of him that is at war with every touch to her, every tremble of her body, and she doesn’t understand but then she does._

_The dress is sliding, up higher and higher--_

~*~

The bottle of tequila is sat between the archer and her as her heels bounced on the metal roof of the Science-Mobile (which was very witty, no matter what Coulson and Jane said) Darcy Lewis was now, and always would be, a fidgeter. That’s okay though, because Clint Barton was to. Not Hawkeye, or Agent Barton, but Clint. Came from being on the move with the circus, or just him naturally. Either way.

She wondered, idly, if the arms came pre-jack-booted thug, or post. Because dayum.

“So I saw that your name was attached to Foster’s official notes and journals. Or whatever.”

“Hm.” Another sip of tequila that causes her toes to curl in her fuzzy socks.

“I also noticed that wasn’t mentioned in the papers she’s already signed with S.H.I.E.L.D”

“Typo.” The bottle passed back between him and her, the purposeful touch of fingers that lingered for longer than necessary. Darcy didn’t specify which bit of paperwork had the typo, and Clint didn’t press. An understanding there, between two people who were okay with being overlooked and underestimated. Because a good soldier knows their strengths, and she’ll keep his secret if he’ll keep her’s.

~*~  
_There is a warmth in his mind that fought to get to the forefront when his hands paused in pulling down her semi-sexy underwear._

_“Are you--”_

_“Yes”_

_The words tumbled out of her mouth, and she felt his relief in the relaxation of his muscled under her fingertips. Panties hit the before one of his hands furiously undid his pants, and the mix of her **want** for him and his **hunger** for her brought out mewling ‘please’ that he answered with a growl._

_Then there was the pain._  
~*~  
“Hey Agent Ipod-thief! Looking pretty spry for a dead guy.”

Coulson has a way of eliminating disapproval with every fiber of his being while moving very little, and Darcy would probably be cowed if she hadn’t spent so much of her life on military bases. No one did disappointment like a drill sergeant.

“When will you let that go?” Instead of responding she gave a dramatic ‘hmm’ as if contemplating the question deeply, unloading Jane’s frankenstein equipment in the process.

Of course, that was until she got sight of Trip, and she gave him a wave with one of her best heart breaker smiles, “Let’s talk Bribery iPod Thief.” Bribery with a capital B, and Hot with a capital S for sexy, “Nice arms.”

Sometimes Coulson’s disapproval came in displeased muttering as well, “Not again.”

~*~

_Lips grazed along her jawline, like he wanted to kiss her but stops himself. Truthfully, she wouldn’t have been worth kissing at the moment anyway. Tears rolled down her cheeks, as she tried to stare up at the ceiling, willing them to stop, and she wasn’t even sure why she cried. His thrusts hadn’t stopped with her gasps of pain that he responded to with animalistic grunts in her ear that made her want to instinctively recoil(a little late for that, wasn’t it?)._

_It faded, slowly, more with each thrust, and she focused on the odd sensation of being stretched and filled, on the way her body seemed to **sing** at the act, at the assuring strength in his hands that held her thighs tight to his own._

_Her hands scrambled over his chest and arms, feeling the weight of his tactical vest, the straps, the angles of his collarbone and the strength in his shoulders. His breath came hot against her neck where his head was still burrowed._

_Was it terrible, that beyond him **inside** of her, she was focused on memorizing him? The scent of him, the way his muscles felt as they flexed with exertion. If she was being rational, which she wasn’t--_

_Her Soulmate pulled her hips away from the wall just a bit and angled them higher, driving into her with renewed vigor that made her arch her back, mouth falling open but no sound coming out. **This** was what the talk was about then, her mind derailed then, all at once stuttering, and higher thoughts of him gone and reduced to base sensation._

_Call her naive, but she could swear he was memorizing her as well, his face nuzzled into her hair on both sides, taking deep breaths, fingers persistently running over the words on her thigh like he couldn’t believe they were there_

~*~

A familiar bottle of tequila was suddenly beside Clint, and he glanced up to see Darcy all bundled up in a fuzzy throw blanket sitting down beside him. He can see her lips moving, but she’s clearly muttering to herself irritably, and he can’t catch what she’s saying without his hearing aids.

But he’s removed them for a reason. Some missions are successful, some missions fail, and some are a success but still make him feel like he was turned inside out and dragged down a mountain.

This was 100% the last kind, and he had hoped to avoid human interaction for as long as possible.

The withering look that he shot her was supposed to convey just that, but Darcy is cares, sometimes too much, and doesn’t have the good sense to back off from people who are dangerous and need space.

 _You don’t have to talk, but I’m staying._ Clint’s eyebrows climb towards his hairline as she signs at him before taking a sip of the liquor straight from the bottle.

 _When did you learn?_ As much as he hates to admit it, this new information does a decent job of distracting him from the past few weeks.

A grin was his response, Darcy liked surprising people, _When I was a kid, my grandpa lost most of his hearing in the Navy._ He accepted her answer at face value, too tired and too worn to ask any further questions about why this particular ability of her’s was just now coming to light.

However, she succeeds; he doesn’t ask her to leave and the atmosphere is a little less tense after. They stay outside in silence for hours until the cold penetrates her blanket, and because Clint is an awkward softie he wraps his arm around her shoulders to walk her inside.

It takes a week. A week for her to wind up in his bed, on a Wednesday night wherein Jane is staying with Thor, Clint doesn’t need to seduce her because if she’s being honest she’s been thinking about this for awhile, and Darcy has always felt an innate sense of comfort around him.

He leaves his hearing aids in, because he wants to hear her. They move together like they’ve done it before and in some ways it’s the most normal thing to happen to them in who knows how long. If he wanted her to stay, he didn’t say anything. Just watched her get cleaned up to leave before the sheets have time to cool.

It’s not his place to question her ability to not get attached after sex, nor is it his place to ask about her alarming soul mark, written in the cramped, utilitarian handwriting of someone who usually has to write fast, often repetitively.

As time progresses, he’s grateful that she leaves, he doesn’t want to get emotional over Darcy Lewis--and he could, he knows himself well enough to know that--and if he saw her as the sun rose tangled up in his blankets then he would.

~*~  
_The man, full of conflict and anger, finished with a groan and a bite onto her shoulder. He wastes little time in pulling away from her and righting his pants, and she could hear his buckle being put back into place as she stared at the floor, not being bothering to grab her panties. It’s possible it hasn’t really set in yet, what happened and the impacts of it, because her hands didn’t shake as she smoothed out her dress, nor did she hesitate to meet his eyes,_

_“Sorry.”_

_There was no elaboration on what he was apologizing for, whether it was taking her virginity in the bathroom of a nightclub, saying less than 20 words to her, not giving his name, or never kissing her. Cold blue eyes watched her as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor, a mix of him and her trailing down her legs before he turned to leave, and maybe it was just wishful thinking but for the briefest of moments he seemed to reach out to her--_

_But then didn’t make contact._

_That’s where Caroline found her, who knows how long later. All 110 pounds of her hauled her best friend through the crowds, shoving anyone out of the way who came too close to the girl who still hadn’t spoken. Darcy was folded into Caroline’s car with as much gentleness as the blonde could muster, she’s not a genius but she figures out the gist of what happened. Later, after it soaks in and they are curled up in their favorite comforter Caroline will have a mini breakdown with tears, shaking, and _how could the universe do this to you_._

_For now, she compartmentalizes, puts the panic in a box and shoves it to the side._

_They go to the Channing household, because Darcy bakes or crochets like a fiend when she’s upset, and her parents would know instantly that something happened. At Caroline’s, it’s just her father, and if he realizes something awful happened he won’t say anything, he never does when the girls are upset._

_So they will manage on their own, growing closer in the process. Darcy will stand too long in the Channing’s fancy, overly complex shower, and in the morning Caroline will get her the Plan B pill before taking Darcy to get tested for STDs. Luckily, neither present any long term issues._

_Darcy swears to herself and to Caroline that she will push past this(and she does), she will find another great love in between changing the world.  
_

~*~ **Present Day. Present Time**

It’s cold as Darcy gets dressed, and she’s grateful she had changed into one of her baggy sweatshirts from the nice blouse she had worn to Stark’s party. It was a _Welcome to the Tower_ party for the Captain’s BFF. Only Stark would think someone like that would want a party when apparently Steve had barely got him to agree to living at the Tower in the first place.

Which probably explained why Barnes had not graced the party with his presence. It hadn’t dampened the festivities much, not that Darcy had noticed, her and Clint had exited stage right fairly early on, he had been gone for a month on a mission to, well, a couple different countries actually. Though she wouldn’t tell him, she had missed his warmth, his smell and laugh almost as much as she missed what he could do with his hands and tongue.

Her kiss to his temple was rewarded with a lazy smile, and she felt a bubble of happiness that he was able to doze off around her, especially so soon after a mission. Clint didn’t protest when she grabbed her purse and headed towards the door, they hadn’t been for more than a year but they had a familiar dance that came naturally to them.

The fact that other people were awake was not surprising, there was enough insomnia in this building that ‘normal sleep schedules’ was more of a joke than anything else.

What _was_ surprising was who she almost ran into coming down the hall. It wasn’t the first time Steve Rogers caught her coming out of Clint’s room at God awful hours of the morning, they lived on the same floor, it was bound to happen. The person with him, however, was new. It took her a moment to recognize him, with his face clean shaven, hair pulled back, wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants.

But even if her eyes hadn’t matched to an eight year memory, the part of her mind that had been at rest with their distance seemed to _wake_ with a start.

“Oh Darcy!” Damn Steve for looking so damn disarming when he pulled the innocent and sheepish act, “Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt you, but since you’re here,” He gestured to his friend, obviously trying to brush off her shocked expression, “This is Bucky Barnes, Bucky, this is Darcy Lewis, she’s a lab assistant here. Thor adopted her as his sister.”

Bucky raised his hand in a gesture that was both mechanical and awkward, instead of shaking it as was the proper and polite thing she recoiled immediately, taking a step back from him shrinking back with a guarded look, and Steve’s wounded expression.

“I need to go. Need to get home. Sorry Steve.” One step back towards the elevator, with her fingers slowly tightening around the straps of her purse, another step, walking backwards and still watching them, feeling like prey even though neither men had made no threatening gestures, a third step before she finally turned sharply and darted past the doors that opened automatically for her.

_Deep breaths_

She would _not_ panic. Lewis women don’t panic. Lewis women _cowgirl up_ , pull down the curtains, make a new dress, and get on with it.

 _In through your nose, out through your mouth_.

A rush of memories that weren’t hers, of blood, screaming, cold, the chair.

 _In through your nose, out through your mouth_.

Lewis women don’t panic. He didn’t even recognize her! Surely if he had he would have said something, right? Right.

 _In through your nose, out through your mouth_.

Why was she so scared? He hadn’t hurt her, and even paused for her to consent. Was she scared because of the dreams? Because she knew _very well_ what he was capable of, she had seen it, felt it, smelled the gun powder as if she had pulled the trigger.

 _In through your nose, out through your mouth_.

Lewis women don’t panic.

 _In through your nose, out through your mouth_.

This was ridiculous. He was _Bucky Barnes_ (apparently), an American hero, and definitely not going to hurt her. It’s just...just..well

 _In through your nose, out through your mouth_.

What if she couldn’t say no to him? Or he was actually a psychopath and tried to take her out for being a potential weakness? What if he thought she was some--some-- trollop because of what happened?! Now that was just ridiculous, obviously. She didn’t give a damn what he thought of her, so why was she worried?

“...Max! Woman! Stop your breathing exercises and talk to me! This is a terrible way to wake up!”

“Caroline? Fuck am I hallucinating?”

“No Miss Lewis, when you started having a panic attack I called Miss Channing, who is listed as your Emergency Contact in case of health issues.”

“Don’t tell your dad about that by the way, he would freak out. Anyway what’s wrong? I can be there in thirty minutes, tops, depending on traffic.” Darcy didn’t realize how much she had wound herself up, pacing in the elevator until Caroline’s voice had soaked into her skin like a balm.

“He’s here Caroline. He’s Bucky _goddamn_ Barnes, and he’s going to be living here.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I’ll meet you in the lobby, my driver will get you coffee, you’re going to be fine. We got this. I’m going to hang up and call the ride, don’t worry, it’ll be private, I’ll see you soon.” The call ended, and Darcy could breath without having to remind herself how. Caroline was right, they got this. Caroline had her 'Í’m On A Mission’ voice going, which always served to make Darcy feel a mix of assured and terrified.

“Miss Lewis, would you like me to hold the elevator until Miss Channing arrives so that you do not encounter anyone else?” Bless Jarvis, and maybe bless Stark for creating him, just this once.

“Yes, lets get moving about three minutes before she’s supposed to be here please. Thank you Jarvis. You won’t,” How many secrets must the AI know about the people who lived in, and frequented the tower? They would be in such trouble if he ever went HAL 9000 on them, “You won’t tell anyone, will you?

“Of course not Miss Lewis.”

It was no time at all before the elevator started moving, and Darcy felt that all things considering she had composed herself admirably. Caroline and her would talk, they would figure out some semblance of plan, get herself in order, life would go on like normal. No one else needed to know, she wouldn’t let finding out that Bucky Barnes(fuckfuckfuck) was her soulmate change her life in any way shape or form.

The doors slid open, to reveal Natasha Romanoff, “I am sorry Miss Lewis, she circumvented my cameras to catch the elevator.”

Well. This day just kept going downhill, didn’t it?

  
Ain't gonna drown  
In the water  
Ain't gonna drown  
In the water  
Ain't gonna drown  
In the water  
Cause the good lord ain't bringing me home  


  



	3. Where comfort is given

  
Are you afraid you’ll be alone  
Are you scared to pick up the phone  
Are you scared of the past  
Do you think that you might crash  
Do you think you’re in too deep

On most days, Darcy thinks that Natasha is fond of her. Maybe not friends necessarily, but fond. Natasha trusts her enough to eat the food that she cooks without having to watch her prepare it, or for someone to take a first bite before her. Fond enough that she sat beside Jane while Darcy fretted over her outfit for a gala that she was accompanying Clint to as a sort-of-date.

Fond. Fond was a good word for a woman’s kindness that showed itself in the sharing of Vodka with labels completely in Russian, but who had opened up to Darcy so few times that she was still more of a mystery than not.

That however, was not present when Natasha forced a confrontation in the main Lobby of Stark Tower, at a terrible hour of the morning. There was a coldness in her eyes as she stared Darcy down that made her feel like she was being dissected in a hundred different ways. At one point she had received these looks from Natasha intermittently and, at first they had bothered her before she gradually became accustomed to them. Finally she and Jane were deemed ‘not a threat’ and everyone relaxed a little. However, after seeing her Soulmate who she had spent years thinking she would never see again and feeling an almost irresistible (and certainly contradictory) need to both pull him close and punch him followed by having an anxiety attack in the elevator Darcy was. quite frankly, not in the mood for this dance.

“Natasha. I’m really tired. Can we talk later?” Tired. Ha. Emotionally and physically _drained_ was more like it.

“What are you hiding Darcy Lewis?”

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Caroline’s car parallel park in front of the lobby(which was definitely illegal) and the door open almost instantly, “None of your business.” Because who needed self-preservation instincts, really, they weren’t important, obviously.

“If it concerns my team then it is my business.” Natasha took another step closer to her, but Darcy was too tired to be properly intimidated by the other woman’s cold tone. It didn’t usually take much from Natasha to scare people, but those people usually had some sense(of which Darcy was lacking at the moment).

“M--Darcy!” Caroline slipped from their old nickname as she tried to sound stern, looking somewhere between Just Woke Up For An Emergency and I’m Caroline Channing and I Plan My Outfits on a Weekly Basis.

Natasha’s eyes narrow at the slip, darting between the blonde and Darcy, “Darcy is fine.”

“No she isn’t, I know her ‘cornered’ face, we are leaving and you are going to leave her alone.” Caroline is used to getting her way, but not in a pretentious way--well, not always--and this is her stern voice that makes police and multi billionaires alike quiver.

It’s hard to tell if it works on Natasha, or if she’s just amused, but she doesn’t protest again as Caroline grabs her hand to walk her out of the lobby, because Caroline’s pride won’t let her run(although Darcy’s sure as hell will).

“Holy shit you just told off the Black Widow.”

“I know.” She opened up the door of the fancy chauffeured car, pushing Darcy in with a practiced ease, “I need to be 150% less sober in the next 15 minutes before that soaks in.”

~*~

_One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila.._

“...Floor!” Darcy squealed with an ‘oof’ as she downs her shot, biting into her lime and plopping down on the floor, giggling even as Caroline collapsed next to her.

“So I was thinking,” More giggling, this time from Caroline, “Maybe you have been over complicating it you know?” Caroline was notorious for getting hyped on ‘great ideas’ when she was drunk and getting crazy tunnel vision.

“No I’m serious! Listen listen _listen_!” Caroline shook her by her shoulders with a far too serious look on her face, like a drunken version of that little fairy from the Zelda games.

“You have my complete attention, just stop shaking me damnit.”

Caroline leans back against the bed, situating herself to be comfortable before giving into grab a pillow from the bed and sitting on it, muttering about her ‘bony butt’ under her breath. Darcy just rolled her eyes as she poured herself another shot, somewhat subtly not pouring her best friend one, “So what I was thinking--damn I almost forgot how much you can put away,” 

Darcy tosses her a familiar, saucy look, “Some people think of alcoholism as a burden, I think of it as a birthright.”

An exaggerated sigh and roll of her eyes is all she gets in response for a moment as Caroline tried to reach for the bottle, her arms flailing for a moment as she teeterred precariously on the fluffy pillow, “Whatever. I’m going to tell your momma you said that.” Her face scrunched as Darcy dangled the bottle in front of her, “Gimmeeee. Or I won’t tell you my brilliant thoughts.”

“Not sure how much of a punishment that is but whatever.” 

Darcy gives in, like she so often does to her and lets her have the bottle, obviously relieved when Caroline only takes a small sip, “Okay so, like I was saying. You know how you’ll meet those guys, like those douchemongers who say they like women with ‘spunk’ until you prove them wrong at a start of school mixer,” Caroline’s face was flushed as she worked herself into a tizzy, “Then you sleep with him because he’s only cute with his stupid mouth shut without stupid obnoxious things falling out of it and it seemed like a great idea at the time but then the next semester holy shit he’s your fucking statistics TA,” The bottle of tequila is slammed into the floor with her irritation and Darcy is just grateful that the cap had been screwed back on to prevent sloshing and wasting good booze on the carpet, “So anyway. You know nothing’s going to happen because he’s still a douche monger so you just act like nothing happened because _as if_ he would get that lucky a second time. That’s what you gotta do Max.”

Darcy gave her a speculative look, eyebrows raising in doubt as she poured herself another shot, “So what I got from this is you fucked your asshole of a TA.” Her lips twisted up in a smirk as the eyebrows changed into a Stark-worthy insinuating wiggle at Caroline before she tossed back the shot, skipping over the salt and lime entirely this time “But see this,” She gestured to Caroline, her voice taking on the distinctive ‘mom’ tone that always worked on her friends, “This is why you shouldn’t compartmentalize your issues. They explode at weird moments.” 

“Are you really mother henning me right now? This is your crisis not mine.”

“You make it so easy to mother hen you though, how come my two best friends are so irresponsible? Anyway” _Ew_ , vomit tinged hiccups were gross, “What do your sexual exploits have to do with my situation?”

Pouting Caroline was always hilarious, even to herself, as evidenced by the giggling that followed shortly after the pouting started, “Just don’t make a big deal out of it.” More grabby hands at the bottle, but this time she wasn’t getting the bottle so easily, “I mean, just think of it like you had-- _oof_ ” She had fallen, losing her already precarious in a bid for the bottle, landing on Darcy, head square in the middle of her chest.

“Man your boobs make awesome pillows, I mean I knew that, but I just wanted to remind you. I know you and Biceps McPrettyEyes don’t do a lot of cuddling so I wanted to tell you since you don’t give him the chance” Caroline snuggled further into Darcy’s chest before picking up where she left off, ignoring her friend’s sigh as she took another shot, “So like, imagine you just slept with some random dude in the back of a club who you had insane chemistry with, who you never saw again--”

“--Who killed a senator’s son right before I gave him my virginity according to the news.”

“--And now bam! You find out you have mutual friends! It doesn’t have to be weird. Just laugh awkwardly and quickly change the subject if it comes up. Although you said you thought he didn’t recognize you, amiright’?” At least with her head buried between Darcy’s breasts she couldn’t exactly drink anymore, that was a plus.

“I don’t know how I feel about you treating involuntary Nazi brainwashing of an American soldier to be on the same level of a booze induced blackout.”

“It was a goddamned metaphor, don’t be dramatic.” Caroline sniped back, irritated if for no other reason than that her friend was rejecting her advice which even sober Caroline didn’t take well.

“He’s an American soldier and the world’s longest held P.O.W. You should be more respectful.”

It was moments like this, that she forgot how quickly her best friend who switch gears and moods, “Yeah, well, I’m sorry if I’m not jumping to shake his hand. Last time I was near him he left my best friend in a disgusting mess, practically in shock on a floor you’re lucky didn’t have all kinds of venereal diseases.” She took a deep breath, regaining her previous tone with effort, “Look. He wasn’t in his right mind. I know that, it was just an awful night. Okay? But my plan still stands. Don’t make a big deal of it if he finds out. You have your life, and he has his. It don’t need to be anything else. He didn’t recognize you, right?” She repeated her question with emphasis.

Finally, Darcy gave into the pressure of Caroline’s slouching form and reclined onto the floor, swiping the pillow so she could stuff it under her head. The world spun with the movement, and she focused on the reflections on the bottle, the way the streetlights coming in from Caroline’s window played across the surface to stabilize herself. In between the slurs and the drunken ramblings there were some good points hidden, if she played this right then maybe things wouldn’t end in shambles. 

Because it wasn’t that big of a deal was it? From the stories Bucky Barnes had been quite the ladies man before his ‘death’, and as the Winter Soldier he could have slept with dozens of people on missions. Once he remembered then maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal once he remembered. It was just sex after all. They were two consenting adults--well, alright. One seventeen year old who had been bodily dragged into a bathroom, and one brainwashed soldier. But she had consented, he had stopped to make sure of that. So there was nothing for either of them to feel guilty about.

“I know he didn’t recognize me. I can feel it. I don’t know, you haven’t met your soulmate yet so it’s hard to explain.”

Caroline slung her leg over Darcy’s own, slowly wrapping herself around her like a sloth on a branch, cuddly drunks are the best, “Even if I did, I’ve never had a bond with mine like you’ve had with yours. You get dreams and images, I only know when mine is in pain. Granted, that has been fairly often. Clumsy bastard.”

“Lucky.” They were quiet then, as if the gravity soaked in, conflict swirling within Darcy to the point where she wasn’t even inclined to take another drink to distract herself. This was not a situation she was at all prepared for, she had been raised under the assumption that at some point her soulmate was going to attempt to kill her, or at the very least threaten her. She had always known she would end up with someone else in the end, and it helped her prioritize romance in her life(low) and in some ways made her more clear headed. It turned out that her and her father’s optimistic assumptions were correct of course, and he hadn’t hurt her of course. 

Well, not the way they had imagined at least, but she had been willing.

What she hadn’t expected, when she was a teenager or after ‘the meeting’ was that he would enter into her life again. Who could have planned for that? It wasn’t something she had a quick and ready response for, other than hiding in an elevator and having a panic attack(apparently).

“Max?” What was intended to be a gentle prod from Caroline’s elbow turned into a rough jab, fueled by three shots of tequila taken in rapid succession and her natural bony self.

“Is it cruel, you think, not to tell him? What if he’s looking for his soulmate, doesn’t he have the right to know?”

“Not right now. Not when he’s barely stable from what you said. Let things play out on their own. That’s what I say. You still have Skye for if things go south and you need more firepower than what I have. So do you thing, and don’t freak out again until you have reason.” Well manicured fingers reached for the bottle again, “Now gimme that, I need to drink enough that I don’t have nightmares about The Black Widow killing me in mah sleep.”

~*~

The metal of the diner table was cold against Darcy’s face as she tried to will her hangover away, which was about as successful as it had been every other time that she had tried it. They had already passed the first phase of their normal Caroline and Max Drinking Night Post Recovery process which was Caroline dragging her out of bed and Darcy groaning about “How could you let me do this to myself I thought you were my friend,” and “I’ve lived a good life, leave me here to die. Wait. No, bring me the bucket first.” Now they were on phase two, which was Hangover Cure Food. It wasn’t a pretty process, but it was effecient and tradition.

Also tradition, Caroline being far too perky and Darcy groaning into the comforting cold table of their favorite booth. However, at least the panic from the previous night had subsided with a combination of venting her worries, drinking them into being minor and now having a hangover to distract her.

“Why did you invite Janey again? She should be relaxing on her day off, it’s the first weekend I’ve convinced her to take off in awhile.”

“Are you saying hanging out with us isn’t relaxing?”

Darcy’s only (very eloquent) response to that was to turn her head to the side, keeping her forehead pressed against the cold metal to glare at her friend, “Anyway, I haven’t seen Janey since I visited you guys in London, which is a shame, we have so much in common!”

“But I’m _dying_. Where is Lacy?” Her head angled to the other side, towards the diner proper to look for their favorite waitress before her head spun and she closed her eyes again, pressing her cheek to the metal.

“Oh don’t be dramatic, you’re 25 for chrissake--Oh here they are!”

“--They?!”

“Lady Darcy! Thank you for inviting us out for breakfast!”

“Thor I will shank you with a butter knife if you don’t quiet down.” Because of course Janey had brought Thor, why wouldn’t she?

Vaguely, in the background of her mind, she heard Thor laughing, and Caroline introduced herself looking and sounding far too put together for the empty bottle of tequila in her Manhattan home. Some things never changed, including Caroline’s inexplicable ability to avoid hangovers.Thor’s joke about late night revelries was interrupted by Lacy, bringing Darcy to a stronger state of alertness than she had all morning, “Coffee Lacy. All of it. Please. Also we’ll have five snake bites with uhm, breakfast sausage please. Two for the big guy, one with ham.”

“Not a problem dear,we’ll have you right as rain in no time.” _Mae’s Country Dining_ was a godsend, Caroline had found it when she moved to New York almost a full year prior to Darcy moving to the city with Jane. It was a little unexpected slice of home that seemed to attract out-of-place southerners as both employees and customers. It had old cowboy paintings next to antique tin coke advertisements on the walls, classic diner tables, and _fantastic_ buttermilk biscuits. When any of the Lewis family visited, this was the first place that the girls took them.

It was also their first visit post-drinking because, “Trust me Thor, it’s awesome food, and also the best hangover cure.”  
“I never doubt your taste in food Lady Darcy, but if I may ask, what prompted your ‘ladies night’, as you say?” 

“I convinced Janey to take a weekend off. I deserved a drink!” Giggling to her left, more at the ‘a drink’ part of the phrase than anything else but her snarky comeback was cut off by Lacy returning with their coffee.

Bless Caroline for being a wonderful distraction however, “So Thor! Tell me about the Asgardian economy!” Although her flitting thought of _holy shit, all my friends are nerds._ was definitely warranted. The conversation continued that way, with Thor getting the chance to go from ‘friendly, sometimes acts stupid warrior’ to ‘Prince who knows everything about his future kingdom’, the uncommon subject matter helping him relax and come off as a little more down to earth though their subject was anything but. Jane and Darcy sipped at their coffee, with Jane scribbling half finished equations and constellations on a napkin while pointlessly trying to stop Darcy from doodling cats and ridiculously exaggerated emojis on said napkins.

The amicable atmosphere was only interrupted by Lacy bringing back their plates, “Darcy! This is so much, I don’t know if I can eat all of it!”

“Oh shush Janey, I’ve seen you put away food. Go for it, I believe in you--” She paused to smile and thank Lacy before getting Thor’s attention, “Best hangover cure. Two giant buttermilk biscuits, with hashbrowns, eggs, and breakfast sausage in the middle with sausage gravy poured on top. Bam!”

Thor poked at one of his biscuits with a fork, looking excited and amused at the same time, “But why are they called snakebites?”

Darcy had to pause to answer because her mouth was already full, “I dunno. Maybe because they’ll put you into a coma? The point is. Amazing.” As they all dug into their breakfast, Darcy couldn’t help but think that with friends like them and her _mutually beneficial_ relationship with Clint, who needed a soulmate anyway?


	4. and hope is a fragile thing.

  
Cause every time I hear that melody Something breaks inside And the grapefruit moon, one star shining Can't turn back the tide  


At six months of living in Stark tower, James Barnes thinks he is doing an admirable job of adapting, all things considered. Adapting is a better word than integrating, because he is slowly adapting to life after Hydra, living back in the city and around people. Adapting to not having a constant mission, a _purpose_ beyond recovery. That might be the most difficult part, not having a meaning to drive him daily. Steve would say otherwise, that his meaning is living his life, recovering the parts of himself that Hydra stole and learning who he is now.

Most days he feels more like a cobbled together human being, bits and pieces of different people masquerading as an actual person. There are some that increase in number gradually, some that he feels _real_ and coherent, instead of a jenga tower that will collapse when someone pulls the wrong brick. Those days are calm, where is knows who he is and who the people are around him. He savors those days, and remembers them when he falls apart. Or tries to at least.

By no stretch of the imagination is he an Avenger, training with the team is still difficult, because he has trouble with control. There is a line between sparring and _tearing into your opponent_ that is too easy for him to cross, too hard for him to _stop_. Thor and Steve are safe at least, and he finds an odd bond in Banner at their situation. Both of them are weapons held back by the team except in desperate situations because they are (rightfully) afraid. For both men their circumstances are caused by forces beyond their control, but it doesn’t stop the guilt or the nightmares.

They wouldn’t admit to walking on eggshells around him, and it gradually lessens as time progresses, but it’s something he feels he deserves. That he deserves the AI watching him all the time, that they are wary of him going alone anywhere that there are noncombatants around--like the labs with the fragile scientists in their labcoats--he deserves it. 

Natalia brings in a pretentious woman who dresses in all white who says she can help, though she says it with a face and tone that says she has better things to do. He wonders what kind of blackmail material Natalia has on her that she will do this favor when it’s clearly not voluntary She pulls gloves from her hands and places soft fingers that have probably never seen combat on his head, and he feels sorry for her if she gets a glimpse at what’s in his mind. The woman hardly flinches though, and he can feel her _sifting_ through the layers in his head like she’s going through books in a library, sees flashes of things he doesn’t even understand as she works. 

It could have been hours, that they sat beside each other, with only Steve and Natalia in the room, the former tense and wary, the latter deceptively relaxed looking. At length, the woman pulls away, wiping her hands on her clothes and pulling her gloves back on. His chest swelled with panic when he didn’t feel any different, and she looks up to Steven and Natalia like a doctor giving a diagnosis about their child. She explains that she removed all the Hydra triggers she could find (though she wouldn’t make promises, telepathy wasn’t a science apparently), but that she wouldn’t help him recover all of his memories. At the protest and ire in Steve’s eyes she goes on to clarify that she removed the blocks from Hydra’s chair and that he _would_ remember, he would remember being James Barnes just as much as he would remember being the Winter Soldier. It would come naturally though, or as naturally as one could expect considering their situation. The memories would come, in their own time, but her forcing them would do more harm than good.

They thank her, stiffly, and she leaves while casting a considering look at him. Even though he has no more proof of her abilities or honesty than Natalia’s support, he finds himself feeling lighter than he has in---a long time. A very long time. The chances of him snapping and killing someone in the tower has dropped drastically, and he feels a little less chained, even if those chains have been largely forged by his own fear.

After that he starts spending more time with Sam Wilson. Sam who should be afraid of him, who is so breakable compared to him and Steve, but is not. They play video games together, Mario Cart, Soul Calibur and other absurd things. He never presses him to talk, he’s just there, in that naturally comforting way that he has. He’s patient, and doesn’t take it as an insult when James would rather watch _Friends_ than talk about the memories that have begun to surface more frequently, but still erratic in their content, quality and frequency. They trade smartass comments together, and Sam introduces him to _Leverage_ , wherein they make a game out of assigning their friends characters from the show and imagining their lives like an episode rather than what it actually is.

It gets easier.

Remembering doesn’t though.

He slips into them randomly. Sometimes they come in dreams, other times he will be opening the door to the locker room and suddenly he’s pushing open the door to a politician's mansion in Paris on an assignment. They are almost always painful, but they end too fast, he still finds himself wanting more. He wants to know himself, the shitty parts and the good parts.

There isn’t any clue what he will be remembering before they play across his eyes,just an itch in his mind, then sometimes it’s him and Steve sitting on a stoop in Brooklyn with Steve sketching on a pad while James dozed in the sun next to him. The next time it could be him slicing open a man’s throat like so much butter.

The quality is also inconsistent, hearing a few bars of a familiar song on the radio makes him hear the giggling of a woman on his arm as he makes his way with her across a...a what? Speakeasy? Nightclub? Paris dance floor? He can’t tell because as soon as the smell of her perfume reaches his nose and her giggling really registers with him the memory has slipped away from him, crumbling.

Many of them are followed by headaches, though not all, but when he’s lucky enough to escape from the physical pain he gets confusion and irritation at himself. His mind. His past. His captors.

Memories are triggered by senses, smell being the strongest and most persistent. Though sometimes he will be sitting down and hear or smell something that he can’t even pinpoint, but it will stir a memory from the chasm that is his mind and he will grasp at it--and fail. It’s driven him to the punching bag, or a match with Thor more than once. Having a piece of himself so close but unable to take a hold of it.

The most confusing, the most out of place, he tells Sam about but not Steve. A boisterous family, the likes of which he’s never had but part of him aches with envy to see. A woman’s laughter, sometimes a girl’s, but so similar he knows they are the same, loud and unabashed in its joy. Cupcakes, yarn and sleepovers, locker rooms and school gymnasiums. They are painfully normal, but so _warm_ and so obviously _painfully_ not his. He savors them anyway, they never hurt when they come and go, so he doesn’t feel guilty for enjoying something that feels like it might be stolen.

Sam has some theories, but says that he wants to do some digging first before explaining. Normally James would press, he doesn’t like being kept in the dark. With Sam though, he lets it go. It’s partially the trust the man inspires, the lack of ulterior motive in his eyes, and partially some childish fear that Sam will take them away, stop them somehow or make him feel worse for having them--though it’s nothing he can control.

~*~

When he went into the ice he didn’t have a soulmate, and neither had Steve. Of course, Stevie had found love anyway, with a beautiful dame who took no shit, Peggy Carter was exactly the type of person he had hoped for when he had envisioned someone for his best friend. After he finally let Sam and Steve catch up to him and agreed to come in, Steve had confided in him about Peggy’s state. She had done exactly what Steve would have wanted her to, had an amazing career and a family. She had moved on, and he never resented her for it, because he wanted her to be happy. To him it was only a few years, but it was a healed wound(as much as anything like that healed), it helped that words had burned across his thigh when he was locked up in the ice.

So in an effort to return the trust Steve had shown him, James had revealed his own words. They talked about them, in a stilted attempt at a casual conversation, debating about the person who would speak them one day. It was them grasping at something normal, as if their lives weren’t as warped as they were, like they weren’t trying so hard to just _be people_. that soulmates were even an option. They decided she was a spitfire, which was good because no one else could handle him or have the guts to stick around.

That was the question though, wasn’t it? Would she? Better yet, _why_ would she? Even if what Steve said was true, that what he did wasn’t his fault, he was a mess, and no one should have the burden of the mess that was James Barnes.

~*~

 

The avengers have become used to him for the most part, as much as anyone can. The civilians, with their various levels of knowledge of him, take longer. It’s expected, Steve hates seeing his friend uncomfortable, and is obviously torn between righteously defending him and just trying to protect him from the looks he receives. He would avoid them, if he could. But Stark does maintenance on his arm while also looking to understand it and find ways to improve upon it. Sam, Steve and Natalia all pour over maps and streams of information on HYDRA, working to take out bases and cells as his arm is being worked on. 

The second time he meets Darcy Lewis(which is the first time he really meets her), is in Tony’s lab. It’s one of his earliest visits, and she comes in while they are looking over data to get Stark to sign something for Potts. When she enters the room he feels some of the tension that he is constantly carrying around start to leak from his bones, for no explicable reason. The curl is beautiful, not in the same way Natalia is, who is all deadly poise and grace, but still beautiful. Her face is expressive like Steve’s, without his hard lines worn down by too much war, and Natalia tracks her through the room as she hugs Sam who rubs his knuckles into her hair fondly. She’s touchy that way, he learns quickly, watching her punch Steve’s shoulder playfully, trying to get him to airbox with her, luring him into it after some suggestive eyebrow wiggling and not-so-subtle comments about his manhood. Even Stark isn’t safe, she messes with his hair as if it’s not already in disarray while trying to get him to sign the papers. However, he is safe from her affection, she makes eye contact, gives him a courteous nod, and gives him a wide berth.

It makes sense at the time, he’s hardly been there a week, and this is only their second encounter. It still stings a little, but he wouldn’t admit that out loud. Stark refuses to sign the paperwork, so she sits in his lap like it’s nothing, and refuses to move until he does. The man adjusts rapidly, wrapping an arm around her middle to secure her there, “If having a gorgeous woman in my lap is your idea of punishment you need more lessons with Natasha.” Natalia just rolls her eyes and Darcy laughs, nesting her head into the crook of Stark’s neck like it’s the most normal thing in the world(and maybe it is). 

They go back to their maps, their bits of stolen documents and radio chatter, the woman’s presence melting into the background for everyone. 

Except him.

James doesn’t have to look at her to be aware of her. He feels the weight and warmth of her seems to seep into him. He focused on the sound of her breathing, her giggles when Stark starts poking her in the side, her yawn, like she was a target on an op. It’s not something he does on purpose, he just sinks into old habits with her around. Time passes as they hash out a strategy, and something happens that starts out normal and turns bewildering that will set a precedent for his future interactions with Darcy Lewis.

He remembers something. He slides into the memory easily, instead of it overtaking him, or creeping at the edges of his vision like a demon from under the bed. It’s benign, eating chow at Basic and it lasts long enough for him to remember the names and faces of the men around him in detail. The smell of Army food, the clatter of silverware, distant conversations about trading gifts from home. It fades away naturally, it is not ripped from him, nor does he feel like he just woke up from a bender.

It’s smooth. Easy, like he remembered where he had left his keys instead of something that happened over 80 years ago to(for all intents and purposes) a different person.

It eats at him, even after Stark finally agrees to sign her papers, and Darcy walked out of the room only pausing to point out a name on the holographic screen of Stark’s that she had seen in Shield’s data dump. Yes, she remembers who the alias belonged to. 

Sam and Steve grinned, Natalia grimaced and Stark pinched her ass on her way out for giving them something that could potentially make the whole mission a whole lot easier.

~*~

He digs around after that, because he wants to know if it was her that inexplicably helped him remember easier. It’s absurd, because why would she? But he’s curious now, and besides he’s got nothing better to do. So he digs.

Darcy Maxine Lewis came to SHIELD’s attention because of Thor, but she stayed in their radar and SI’s because of determination, adaptability, and sheer stubbornness. The woman had a way of worming her way into people’s lives--and departments, offices and the like--in a way that no one noticed until she was too deeply rooted to move. If someone was smart they would have snatched her up as an agent, but with her music obsession, her over sized sweaters, and passion for the ‘soft sciences’ Darcy was overlooked.

Then SHIELD fell, so Dr. Foster and Darcy Lewis were snatched up for their safety

It may not have been necessary, looking at her file. Darcy is a Marine brat, father a drill sergeant at Camp Lejune in South Carolina, family had been military going back to the civil war. The file had a special section for Darcy’s close relatives that were currently in law enforcement or military and the list was extensive, there were even some that had been in SHIELD. There was an added addendum that they had been cleared of HYDRA involvement by _personal_ investigations by Natalia and Sam Wilson.

It gave him the feeling that Darcy could defend herself just fine, more than most of them expected. But she probably liked it that way.

Darcy only has a vague title in SI’s database for her job role ‘Assistant’. He sees the records that her pay has increased noticeably, but erratically from SI, and he’s more than a little surprised that she doesn’t live in the tower like Foster. It would make affording school expenses easier. _School_. It’s almost an abstract concept for James Barnes, higher education wasn’t really something that seemed necessary or attainable before the war, then everything went to hell, and the farthest thing from his mind was sitting in a classroom now.

She was dedicated though, she had graduated just before he and Steve had returned to New York, and turned around to go back to school once the summer was over. She took classes, worked as a TA twice a week, and still managed to shadow Maria Hill who was still working at SI. He wasn’t sure what her goal was with that, but she took notes and did it with such seriousness that he was hard pressed to resolve.

However, he saw her in Jane and Stark’s lab still, books spread out over whatever available space she could find, studying and working on papers. During her study breaks she would cook or make sandwiches for the scientists, insisting they eat and helping draw them back to earth in the process. Banner didn’t scare her, and she had an easy, affectionate rapport with Stark that seemed to involve sexual innuendos, spitballs and debates about fictional superheroes.

Then there was the obvious. The archer. Darcy had a _thing_ with Clint. A sexual thing. A non-monagamous thing, apparently, because they both went on dates intermittently, and from his observations--not that he was stalking her or anything. 

Really. 

But from his observations the two would go a month or more before falling back into bed, no evidence of strife or anger between them. He hadn’t the right to disparage anyone abnormal romantic relationships(or non romantic), from what he remembers when he was _Bucky_ , or what he had with Natalia as the Soldier.

But he notices. It’s hard not to. They don’t hide it. He hears her enter his suite, just down the hall from his and Steve’s, and hears her leaving it, usually only an hour later. She never stayed, even when he was injured, even when she had been on her feet all day and was surely exhausted.

He didn’t let his thoughts linger on that. He boxed them up in his head and shoved them to a dark corner to be forgotten.

~*~

Normally, she was vivacious, even when tired, mind running at all times, hands that were constantly fidgeting, straightening and organizing. A loud laugh and full smile never far away. When she walked past the other frequenters of the tower Darcy touched them. A gentle hand on their shoulders, fixing Jane’s hair, untangling Kate’s hair from her earrings, sleeping on Sam’s shoulder while watching a movie. 

Except him, Darcy did not touch him. She only spoke to him enough to be polite;

_Excuse me._

_Please pass the syrup_

_Have you seen Rogers?_

Steve noticed, and if it was anyone else outside of the Avengers circle he probably would have given a righteous speech defending his best friend and what he had been through. Except it was Darcy, who they knew and trusted. Trusted enough to have free reign of the tower, and a standing invitation to move in that she had stubbornly refused.

Steve assumed(wrongly) that she was afraid. James knew better, and so did Natalia and Clint. They were very familiar with what fearful eyes looked like when turned their way, and that was not Darcy. Though she was careful to never ever touch him(he had tried to trick her once or twice, standing in her path and acting like he didn’t hear her polite ‘excuse me’, moving too close than was polite on the couch during movie nights) she was not afraid.

More….

Contained. Wary.

But not afraid.

~*~

When Steve first introduced himself to Darcy, the brief moment in the hall in front of Clint’s rooms, it was awkward but familiar. It resonated with him just like when Steve found him after the hellicarrier, when he had found more scraps of himself.

_”Buck, it’s me, Steve Rogers. I’m your friend.”_

_”Of course you’re Steve, punk.”_

Because it was obvious, and it hadn’t felt like he was _meeting_ Steve, because he already knew him. That was how it felt with Darcy, just before she practically ran from them. He had wanted to say; _Of course it’s her._

Which was obviously silly, because they had never met before.

~*~

Darcy noticed him too. No matter how quiet he was, or who he was with, even if he was alone, when he approached the room she was in she knew he was coming. He would round the entryway into the labs and she would be watching the door expectantly, with an expression that seemed reserved for him; a mix of wariness and challenge in her eyes.

He hung around more than he should have. Not because he had feelings for her, because if he did he would be more incensed at her and Clint than he was. It’s just that she made _remembering_ so much easier. It was a little addicting. It was a weird sort of experimental hobby, how close did he have to be for the effect to work? Did walls impede the impact?

Answer; if she was in the communal kitchen and he was on the balcony, far enough that he couldn’t hear her talk but could see her if he stood at the right angle, it was still close enough. Clint’s suite to Steve’s suite was unfortunately too far. 

Answer; walls had no effect. When he slipped into memories in Stark’s lab when Darcy was next door it was consistent. Better than the telepaths, better than Tony’s machines and Banner’s yoga, he eased into the past with detail and even if they were shity memories at least he didn’t feel like shit when it ended, that was the point. When she was nearby the memories weren’t at the edge of his memory frustratingly out of reach, nor was he submerged and choking going in and pulling himself out.

He still hadn’t had an actual conversation with her.

_Present day, present time_

Years from now he will lay awake, mocking and berating himself at night for how long it took him to remember her. To realize something that should have been one of the first moments to come back.

It was one of those times he was humoring Stark, letting him tinker on his arm, acting like he was considering heat lasers in his fingertips for some stupid reason. He wasn’t sure where Darcy was, just that she had rushed out of the lab earlier with no explanation except a frantic look on her face.

Then, with no warning (though that was normal with her) she was there with a blonde in tow who had clearly been crying her eyes out, The panic was gone from Darcy’s face, and her friend was clutching her hand like her life depended on it, makeup halfway down her face and hair in disarray. Though James and Steve were in the room, she was focused on Stark, and looked like a determined woman on a quest.

“Stark. Do you still have a guest suite available?” 

The scientist always multitasked, and sometimes he ignored people so he could focus on his work, but this time only the former happened, “Of course. It’s open for Miss Channing immediately.”

“Max how does he know--”

“Because it’s everywhere, and you’re my emergency contact. I’m going to need to stay here as well, those slimeballs are at my apartment. Are you sure?” It was a redundant question, Stark was all heart, he never turned away family when they needed help. He had gathered the people important to them and hoarded them into one building like a crow with shiny things, or a dragon with a hoarde. Darcy had maintained her independence largely out of sheer stubbornness.

“Good! Happy can help you get your--oof!” . 

Stark was tackled, dropping his tools out of surprise because his arms were suddenly pinned to his side by Caroline and then Darcy. Caroline was crying anew, _thank you_ , whispered between sniffles, with Darcy clinging tightly to him. 

Steve was smiling though curious, and James wasn’t really sure what to do with two upset women so close to him(and neither did Stark, who was just patting them uncomfortably). So he tried to clean up, because his arm was partially dismantled so he couldn’t leave but he needed to do _something_. 

The Universe was either too cruel or too kind(it’s kind of up in the air which it is, really) for him to go unnoticed. Dracy is letting go of Stark and turning towards him as he is reaching for the fallen tools and whips her hair in his face on accident.

 _Scent_ memory is the strongest.

The vivid memory takes hold and he slips into it, willingly, because he’s naive. Because he has no idea what he’s getting into.

_The words on her thigh stand out like neon and he runs his fingers over them **again** and **again** , it’s unreal the effect seeing them has on him. He didn’t need them to know, and neither did she, but it was still so hard to stop staring. _

_She’s was breathtaking, curls splayed out over her shoulders, breasts heaving as she panted, blue eyes on fire with passion that she was lost in._

_**Mine** _

_The Soldier would have her, and the man the Soldier was lay in the back of his mind, trying to claw his way to the forefront because she deserved better than this. Better than being taken in the bathroom of some filthy club with his rifle still cooling on his back._

_The Soldier didn’t care._

_The Soldier only cared that her skin sang to him, that her fingers left scorch marks on his own and that she was so wonderfully **responsive** to his touch. So young and so alive, making the most wonderful sounds._

_It was The Soldier, that refused to kiss her, because it was trivial, unnecessary, could put thoughts into her head that didn’t belong there._

_The Soldier who held her neck as long as he was able, to stop her from trying to leave, to hold her there. Exposing her for his lips, his gaze, his touch._

_It was James who stopped, who asked her. The Soldier didn’t care about consent, but James did._

_It was both of them, who ran both hands through her hair, savoring the softness of her tresses, making her back arch as he tugged on the strands, nails digging gently into her scalp. It was both of them, who nuzzled her head, feeling her hair across his face and neck, memorizing her scent and storing it away. It was the most human he had felt in a very long time, and he was going to lose it when they put him back in the chair._

_For now, for this moment, she was his, and she wanted to be._

_It was primal. Instinctive. Familiar. **Need**. More than either side of him had ever experienced._

_Temporary._

_It was The Soldier who smelled the blood, it was James who felt a stab of regret, it was both of them that left her there. Both who apologized, but left no name, and did not get her’s on purpose_

__

It took less than a minute for him to come out of the memory, but it was long enough for Darcy to realize that he knew. His brain was scrambling for a reaction, for words, for emotions to well up as this new revelation soaked in, and she took that opportunity to pull Caroline away from Stark and away from him.

“Thanks. I’ll call Happy. We need to go.”

But she couldn’t. Not with him grabbing her wrist. Steve was on his feet and Stark was watching him warily, hands reaching for something just out of sight.

“How old were you?”

Out of all the things she predicted, this question was obviously not at the top of the list, “Seventeen. But it’s not important. Caroline is important, I am leaving to help my friend, and you are not going to stop me.”

It was James who let her go.


	5. In which lessons are learned and remembered

  
We put it all together  
We can drive it home  
With one headlight

When Darcy was growing up she(like all children) often heard the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?”, Darcy, being contradictory and ornery by nature chose to interpret that question as ‘who’ she wanted to be instead. When she was eight years old she settled on what would end up being her answer for a long time; Aunt Darlene.

Aunt Darlene Lee Lewis was blessed and cursed with one of the most southern names in their family. It was perfectly normal in Oklahoma where the family was living at the time, but stuck out a bit more when she travelled up north later in life. As if passing on the mantle, she would go on to name her second child after a country song, but at least it wasn’t _very_ obvious. Darlene was the oldest of the children, so she went from the center of attention to having to help raise her siblings. That was alright with her, she showed an early aptitude towards adaptability, learning new tasks and duties easily. 

At some point some sort of switch was flipped in Darlene and she went a little, well, off the rails. No one talked about it sober, but Darlene ran off for a spell with a shady man that came into town who was old enough to be arrested for touching her. She came back pregnant, as wayward daughters were want to do in the 70’s, working her way back into the family under the roof of their Uncle who had a spare room in Tennessee.

With the baby came responsibility, and just like before, Darlene seemed to take to it easily, until the father of her daughter came back around. Love can be a dangerous, fickle thing. A dangerous thing that can act as blinders to the obvious, taking away fear and and giving comfort when sometimes the fear would have been more fitting. More helpful in the circumstances, at least.

Darcy wasn’t alive yet, of course, but the way the family tells it, when Amber died Darlene finished growing up for the most part. Her taste in men improved only marginally, but she stayed in town now, and once shot a man’s kneecaps for laying a hand on her little cousin. 

Darlene didn’t meet her soulmate until she had two more children by two other men, both of which had long been run off. It wasn’t that Darlene ‘got around’ or anything, she was just very intense at the time, she pulled people in and repelled them just as quick. The woman also took no shit and was a helluva shot, so that worked out well. 

Uncle Glen always painted a pretty picture of his first meeting with Aunt Darlene. At the time he was a teacher at the high school where her cousin attended. Jody was the daughter of the Uncle who had taken in Darlene after she came back to town instead of following her family wherever their father was stationed at the time, and she was only sixteen. The circumstances that led to Darlene facing off with Jody’s principal are truthfully a little hazy, and are up for much debate at Thanksgiving. Everyone can agree though, that he insulted Jody something awful, causing Darlene to rear back and punch him square in his jaw so hard he lost his balance, tripped and fell down the stairs.

So that’s how she met her soulmate. The teacher that had been watching, and rushed to check if everyone(just the girls) were alright. Aunt Darlene, with a baby on her hip, a toddler hiding behind her legs, and a rebellious teenager peeking over her shoulder, just held her chin up high with a challenge in her eyes. Her future husband was enraptured by her without any words needing to be matched, by a fire that never quite faded. Glen met her stubbornness head on, unafraid of the pistol in her purse or the blue eyed baggage that clung to her(in fact he had one at home too). 

It’s not that Aunt Darlene is her _’favorite’_ because you’re not supposed to pick favorites, but she’s definitely the Lewis woman that Darcy admires the most. Even next to her own mother. In fact, she was the only person other than Caroline who knew about the first time Darcy met Barnes--if anyone understood meeting your Soulmate(and leading up to it) not exactly being a rom-com situation it was Aunt Darlene. 

More importantly, if anyone knew how to keep on truckin’ when life really kicked you in the ass, it was Darlene. So when she was (mostly) recovered from her hangover after binge drinking with Caroline she called her ~~favorite~~ Aunt.

“Darcy! How are you baby girl?”

The relief she felt at hearing her voice almost made Darcy want to cry, “I’m okay Darlene, how are you?”

“Dandy! Just got back from town with groceries, you have good timing.” The familiar sound of cans being placed on shelves in the background was audible even though the phone.

Darcy paused, “Do you want me to call back later?”

“No hun, now is fine I haven’t talked to you in a month! What’s goin’ on?”

At that Darcy paused, thinking of how to tell the older Lewis woman about the predicament she found herself in. She still wasn’t sure if she had called her Aunt for comfort or advice on the situation. Maybe it was a mix of both, to feel better about the whole thing and get a different perspective than just Caroline’s and her own.

“I met my soulmate last night.”

The sound of groceries being put away ceased, “Ya’ mean properly?”

“Hm,” A quiet noise of agreement as she mulled over her words, listened to the sound of plastic rustling as Darlene resumed her task. Finally she decided that direct and not sugar coating was her best bet at this point, “He’s Bucky Barnes, you know, the Winter Soldier.” He had been all over the news for some time, since the Helicarrier incident, but it was only since Steve had successfully brought him into the fold that his name was disclosed to the public(along with her and Jane) as Bucky Barnes.

A clatter, as something dropped and hit the floor, and the familiar sound of her Aunt muttering profanities to herself, “Damn girl, you don’t do nothin’ by halves do ya’?”

Darcy laughed, in a way she very much hoped made her sound composed(ha!) and cool(ha!ha!) about the whole thing, “No Darlene, I don’t. He--” Deep breath, “He doesn’t remember me. Doesn’t know I am.”

“CNN said somethin’ about amnesia, so that makes sense. As much as anything to do with superheroes makes sense I guess.”

“He isn’t a superhero Aunt Darlene. If anything he’s a--”

“A Prisoner of War. A patriot. Just like your--” She didn’t need to see her Aunt to know she was bristling, and could hear a righteous lecture in her voice(hilarious, considering) that she wasn’t in the mood for.

“I don’t need a family history lesson Darlene I know how our family feels about soldiers and I don’t mean to sound disrespectful. It’s just confusing for me, the last time I met him he killed a politician’s son and well, you know the rest.”

Darlene sighed, and by the sound of it she had flopped herself onto her bed, having given up on putting away groceries at this point, “I know hun. That man wasn’t himself, you told me years ago you felt the conflict in ‘em, and the walled off part, or something. This makes sense.”

Silence, as Darcy mulled over what to say next. It was such a weird conversation to be having. She had lived seven years with the very firm mindset that she would never meet her soulmate again, and now her worldview was flipped. It occurred to her, that she really wanted nothing more than for her Aunt to tell her some simple solution so things could go back to normal and how to handle this so no one got hurt or upset. Comfort. That’s what family, was for, weren’t they?

“Well. You can’t tell him who you are, you know that right?” Darlene’s hodgepodge accent of Oklahoma and Tennessee made ‘can’t’ sound like ‘cain’t’ that made her smile before the words processed in her head.

“Wait. I thought you were all about honesty and openness?”

Darlene sighed, sounding more her age than normal, “Darcy. That is a good man whose been through ten shades ‘a hell. I don’t even know half of what he did, and the half I do know is nightmare inducing. he was just brought in outta’ the cold and is probably trying to figure himself out. How do you think he’ll feel about what he did to ya’? You think he’ll feel good? Think he’ll be proud?”

“No, Aunt Darlene.”

“He’s going to feel awful. Because it was a terrible thing, but it wasn’t his fault. Now I’ve never met the guy but I really doubt he’s going to see reason. What do you think?”

“I don’t know Aunt Darlene.”

“If he’s anything like any of the other men that have matched with Lewis women he’s as stubborn as an old dog, so I doubt he’ll be reasonable about it. You need’ta let him do some healing first baby girl, better yet, let him remember on his own. Don’t rush the mind, it’s fragile.”

“Yes, Aunt Darlene.”

“Damnit, stop pouting! You called me!”

“Yes Aunt Darlene.” More muttered profanities, and Darcy broke with a giggle at her Aunt, a ball of tension in her chest that had formed yesterday and hadn’t quite gone away even with Tequila finally relaxing. 

“This is why some animals eat their young.”

“You love me.”

“Against my better judgement. You should really think about bringin’ your folks into this loop, and keep Caroline close, Lewis’ women hold each other up in times like this.”

“Caroline ain’t a Lewis Aunt Darlene.”

“Yes she is. We adopted her. She has a stocking at mother’s house, that’s as official as anything. Darcy.”

“Yeah I know, thanks Darlene.”

“That’s what I’m here for baby girl. Tomorrow you’re gonna to go to work, or school, whatever you are doing to run yourself ragged these days and not focus on this mess. Don’t let it, control you. It’s your life.”

“I will Aunt Darlene, don’t worry. I won’t let anyone control my life or me.” She said it like a vow, or a prayer,

“Good girl. Now catch me up on everything else, how is school?”

~*~

Darcy’s world kept turning, as it was want to do. Gradually, things went back to normal in her mind. Weeks turned into months, school, work, a handful of dates scattered between time with Clint helped keep her from getting distracted by any lingering..Oddness from her unique situation.

Slowly but surely Natasha stopped watching her like a potential mark on a mission and back to something closer to a friend, or at least an ally. With any luck the Widow had come to the same assumption that most everyone else had, that she was somewhere between _wary of_ and afraid of the former Winter Soldier. No one could blame her, so as long as she wasn’t obvious no one chided her for it. 

Caroline hovered for longer than Natasha did, and wasn’t near as subtle. She found reasons to stop by Columbia and the tower as often as she could, whisking her best friend off for lunch, impromptu shopping dates, or dinner with her father when he was in town. It was unclear if she expected Darcy to have another anxiety attack or for Barnes to spontaneously develop a need to hurt her. Which was silly, either way she couldn’t do much to prevent either, only help with the fallout as she had done with the last times it had happened.

The dreams still came, but those were normal. Still a mix of happy and horrific, if anything they seemed sharper now, as if the knowledge that Darcy now had helped add clarity to the images she had been seeing for most of her life. Teenage Steve’s voice was clearer and sounded more real now that she had heard it for herself, knew who it belonged to, she paid closer attention to the sights and sounds of old Brooklyn, now that she was walking down those same streets.

Now she felt something associated with the memories that she never had before; guilt. Now she felt a little like a peeping Tom, even when it was something innocent, like a flash of hands that were not her own opening a can with an army issued can opener as she dug around in her kitchen drawer for her own. These weren’t her own, what right did she have to them?

None.

It wasn’t like she had a choice. Her parents had bit the proverbial bullet and taken her to therapy when she was much younger, before she had adapted to them. But there was nothing to be done, she wasn’t the first person in history to experience this, and all the therapist could suggest was to write them down.

A fat lot of good that did, didn’t it?

Going through puberty and being the first girl in her class to have something for the boys to ogle at was hard enough without dreams of killing people. In fact, if anything Barnes should be apologizing to _her_ , not the other way around.

Not that she really believed that, or anything.

The connection was still there though. That was unavoidable. If she focused on it and cleared her mind she could tell the mood he was in, if he was hungry, how much(or how well) he had slept the night before. It wasn’t something she did often, but sometimes it was hard not to.

Sometimes she envied Caroline, who only rarely had dreams, and not near to the sharpness of Darcy’s. However, she did always know when her Soulmate was injured(which seemed to happen to him often). Everything Caroline knew about her Soulmate was very physical, or _instinctual_ based, things that she didn’t have to think about, she just _knew_. like knowing that he was hurt, or when he was enormously stressed, or that he was older than her.

It was an odd thing for Caroline, because she was so logic driven. Caroline had big dreams, charts and plans, she delighted in excel sheets, took pictures of her entire wardrobe so she could plan out her outfit no matter where she was. Sometimes she rolled with the unexpected better than Darcy did, didn’t allow herself to get emotional. Something else that Darcy envied her for..

There were days that she thought that Barnes knew, or at least suspected something. He just seemed to be _around_ so often, more often than necessary considering her presence at the tower was on an erratic schedule and she was a lab monkey who spent time in the communal kitchen when she was stressed and he was--

Well. Not a lab monkey or someone who loved communal areas. 

Time and proximity did not change that she always felt him when he approached, just like in the club the first time. Even if she had both earbuds in and was knee deep in grading papers, when he came down the hall she looked up, unable to resist the temptation. 

If he knew though, he said nothing, and neither did she. Because Caroline’s solution of laughing off their encounter like it was a drunken hookup had not grown more reasonable sounding over time, and Darlene’s suggestion of ‘go with your heart and your gut baby girl’ wasn’t really enough to build an action plan around either. 

_Temptation._ That was there, popping up in moments she couldn’t have suspected. She should have felt it when she accidently walked into a sparring session with him and Thor(yum!), or morning Bucky with sweatpants hanging low, wearing an old wifebeater that still revealed his lovely biteable hipbones.

Instead she felt it when he laughed at her and Clint trying to throw grapes at each other’s mouths (because they can be teenagers together, her and the former carnie), or when he starts watching _Leverage_ with her, Jane and Thor just because he heard them discussing what character each of the residents most resembled and he was too curious to resist. She was tempted by him complimenting Steve’s art after going an entire week of not speaking, and his scowl when he tried to follow an old faded recipe book she brought from her apartment, hair slowly falling lose from the bun at the back of his head.

She resisted though. For so many reasons. Because she was trying to get a real adult job, because she was still watching over Jane(and Caroline sometimes), because she was TAing while working on her Masters, because she didn’t have the right skill set to help him, because he should be focusing on finding himself again, because what if they fell in love and then he discovered the new not-40’s and not Winter Soldier version of himself and realized he didn’t love her? Or she didn’t love him? What if she distracted him? What if she was a crutch? What if he was? Was she read to take on everything he came with?

 _Because_. **What if?** _Because._ **What if?**

More important than any of that though, is that Bucky actually seemed to making honest to goodness _progress_. Darcy wasn't a genius, or a scientist, and they weren't exactly friends, but she wasn't blind either. She watched him slowly go from only sparring with Steve to giving into Kate's needling. It showed he trusted himself to not hurt her, to keep present separate from the past.

The first time Bucky laughed around everyone at breakfast he resembled a puppy when they first learned how to bark; startled, confused, and gradually pleased with himself. It took awhile to soak in for her, since she hadn't gone to bed yet ( _thanks, Jane_ ).

Perhaps, most importantly, she noticed it in the calm moments at the tower. When she lingered after forcing Janey to bed, taking her school work out to one of the garden terraces that decorated Stark tower and _relaxing_. All to herself, working on papers(her own, or grading others), creating to-do lists, planning for the future, before letting it 

slip  
away  
into the nothing

Like Bruce's books talked about, letting external and even internal conflicts drift away like she was setting pieces of herself adrift. Breaking them off so she could focus.

There it was  
when there was nothing else

A tentative string that tied herself to James Buchanan Barnes. She could feel him, slowly piecing himself together like a raggedy doll.

Sometimes, if she really focused--lingered on his presence inside her, she could see what he had been.

More importantly.

What he was shaping up to be, different than he was, different than what Hydra made him to be, something new.

No, she wouldn't risk fucking that up for something that could be nothing, for sweaty memories against a bathroom stall and the red string of fate she sometimes thought she would cut if she could.

~*~

It was in September that the Universe tried to make Caroline and Darcy’s world’s crumble away like so much dust. 

It was a normal day (because it’s always a normal day when shit tries to fall apart, isn’t it?), with Darcy still bathing in the afterglow of convincing Jane to go to sleep even though it was mid afternoon. She brought her classwork to Tony’s workshop so she could continue notating her partner’s paper while bouncing between a comparison discussion of The Black Keys recent music with their older sound(“Their earlier music had more of a grittiness to it, It just felt more real, more genuine” “Lewis. That was because they were using shitty equipment and a low budget. It’s not because the style actually changed, c’mon man.”) and getting Steve’s opinions on current political topics while Tony worked on Bucky’s arm.

Barnes is mostly silent, because he’s still feeling a little out of his depth in these sort of group social situations, so he watches Darcy’s highlighters fly across her papers, and the emotions play across his teammates faces. They’re listening to the Black Keys, because of course Tony is trying to prove her wrong, causing James and Steve to share exasperated looks across the small distance from the couch Steve is lounging on to the table James is at.

It’s a weirdly casual and normal situation for them, if anything it’s strange that it’s...not strange?

Darcy decided a long time ago not to dwell too much on that sort of thing, and is startled from doing just that by the song _Stuck With You_ suddenly blaring from her purse, causing Tony to hiss at the pop song like a pretentious cat. Any snappy retorts died in her throat at hearing Caroline’s crying voice in her ear, and she’s grabbing her bag to rush out of the lab before anyone can ask about the sudden stricken look on her face. Her mind emptied out of all else except Caroline’s distraught voice, a heavy weight filling her chest that made it hard for her to breathe. 

“Max, daddy was arrested! They took my stuff and I tried to go to your apartment but reporters and paparazzi were waiting there, and not the good kind!”

“Caroline, breathe. Just breathe. Are you on foot?”

“No I’m in a taxi, what am I going to do Max? I’m homeless! Oh God, I’m homeless!” It’s an odd experience for Darcy, because usually Caroline is so good at not letting things get to her, at turning situations to her advantage.

“Have them bring you to Stark’s tower, I’ll meet you downstairs. You are going to be fine.”

~*~

Darcy has fielded calls and texts from her family while she rode the elevator to go down to the lobby, Caroline is a Lewis in all but name and the story about Martin Channing had already broke in all the major news networks. No doubt her mother had already called Caroline and left an encouraging voicemail, reminding her of the open invitation to their home if Caroline needed it.  
Caroline is the better future planner out of the two of them, always has been. She has wish boards, two year plans, 20 year plans and everything in between, and she’s tried to do the same for her best friend but Darcy has declined them graciously(though she suspects Caroline still made them). Even so, Darcy Maxine Lewis is now and has always been a caring person, and takes care of other people better than herself.

It’s the side of herself that clicked in as she stood at the security desk, firing off rapid text messages in the process to assure her family and tell them to go easy on Caroline until she reached out to them to avoid smothering her in concern. By the time her favorite blonde arrived Darcy has her security cleared for all the floors Darcy is permitted on, and has also badgered them to changing the channel of the TVs in the lobby to Animal Planet as opposed to the news.

It hasn’t stopped her from cramming in all the news articles she can find on Martin Channing’s arrest though. somehow not surprised that he was caught for a Ponzi Scheme. Any sadness she felt was more for Caroline’s sake than for Martin, because while Caroline looked at the Lewis’s like a second set of parents, Darcy tended to see Martin as more of a really awesome, if absent, uncle. Like the grandma from _Boy Meets World_ , except rich and without the awesome van.

Even with tears drying on her face, Caroline still seemed to saunter into the marbled lobby like she owned it, towering over even some of the men in her heels, hair bearing the obvious marks of having been hastily finger combed in the car en route. Darcy has known Caroline since middle school, she knew her when her mother cheated on her father and was cut off from her daughter, she knew her at the worst points of her life and some of the best.

She was very familiar with ‘hastily made acceptable for public viewing’ Caroline Channing, her friend was, if nothing else, full of pride in herself. So it left her in a state of shock when all at once the girl lost her composure and collapsed against her, her taller form wrapping around her while she tried to avoid crumpling to the gorund, hold full of desperation and need. 

Darcy enfolded Caroline into a tight embrace, determined to be the one thing in her life that couldn’t be taken away when everything else was.

~*~

Darcy’s hands clench in her hair as she squeezed her eyes shut, leaning back against the cold elevator walls. This was really not her day. Deep breaths, in and out, forced her mind to focus only on Caroline and gathered her resolve to take care of her friend. At that moment in time, the fact that the secret(and that was soaking in as well, Darcy inexplicably hadn’t really thought of it as a secret until now) was out, after so many months of clutching it close like beloved jewelry.

What had happened to her, in that bright club years ago, wasn’t going to change, there was nothing to be done about it now, and the wound had long ago scabbed over.

But her best friend’s world collapsing, losing her only blood family, all of her possessions and good name? _That_ , was something she could help with. That was her focus. As long as she kept that in mind, she wouldn’t dwell on how her life was about to change.

“Max, when it rains it--”

“Nope! Not in the mood for that cliche Caroline, we got this.”

Caroline just sighed, too weary to argue with her. A wise decision, all things considering, “JARVIS, could you please call Happy for me?” Her hands reached out automatically as she watched Caroline compose herself. Up until Tony had agreed to give them a place to stay she had been doing an admirable job of pulling herself together, before crumbling again at his act of kindness.

“Of course.”

Her blunted nails combed through Caroline’s hair as her other hand rubbed circles on her bony shoulder as they waited for Happy to answer, wanting to bundle her up in a dozen blankets until she lost the fragility she now seemed to be emanating. It wasn’t natural, and Darcy’s almost instinctual need to protect her friend made her wish there was a person she could lash out at--hit, scream and kick make the situation better.

Except it was Martin Channing who was at fault, so that was a little impossible.

“Hey Darce, what can I do ya for?”

Bless Happy Hogan, “Heya. How would you like to help a couple of distraught women rescue their shit from evil reporters to temporarily take refuge Casa Stark?”

Perhaps better stated, Bless Tony Stark for surrounding himself with people like Happy Hogan, “That’s one of my favorite hobbies. Where and when do you need me?”

Darcy glanced at Caroline, pausing as the elevator stopped at the floor for guest suites, “Give me half an hour and meet me in the garage? Vehicle needs to be good for moving stuff, not furniture, but lots of clothes. Books, you know. The important stuff.”

Happy laughed, and it echoed in an oddly comforting fashion around the elevator, “Be careful Darce.”

“You too Happy.”

The call clicked with the disconnect, “Thanks JARVIS, you can open the doors now, appreciate the privacy.”

“Anytime Miss Lewis.”

Darcy was not in the mood for cliches, but apparently the universe was, because Clint Barton in the hall on the other side of the doors where _he had no goddamn right to be this is not your floor and could you have worse futzing timing Barton?!_

The man takes one look at Darcy’s drawn face and Caroline who is extricating herself from her best friend so quickly her necklace is getting snagged in Darcy’s hair and knows that his presence is unwanted. When Darcy flinched as an increasingly embarrassed Caroline yanked on her hair too roughly Clint looked torn between wanting to help and wanting to crawl into the nearest air duct, hand scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Finally, under Darcy’s glare, he reaches out towards the women to help, only to have his hand smacked by Caroline like a child reaching for cookies before dinner, accompanied by a chastising expression that would have been hilarious in different circumstances,, “Hey Darce, Stark sent me down here to make sure you guys had food but uh, since you’re already here--” He scratched the back of his neck and glanced away from them, a gesture Darcy recognized as his go to _uncomfortable_ , and _out of place_ movement.

Caroline succeeded in extricating herself from Darcy’s curls smoothing her hand down her dress in a practiced gesture, “I’m not good at handling upset women, but uh, I’ll be around if uh, if I can help.”

Clint wasn’t looking directly at them, but he didn’t need to be to see Caroline’s eyes widen, tensing as if she had been slapped. He couldn’t stop his full attention from snapping to them though as Darcy stepped in between the two, hands suddenly grasping Caroline’s face to pull her closer to her own.

“No Caroline,” It was stern, left no room for argument, and both recognized the echoes of her father’s commanding tone in the words, “I love you, but we cannot do this right now. Put it in a box, stuff it in a corner, and we’ll unpack it later.” She pulled Caroline’s head closer, eyes focused on her own, “ _Not now Caroline_.” There is an intensity in her voice and her stance that’s hard for anyone to say no to, that can’t be ignored. The stance of her shoulders; ready to carry the weight of a burden that shouldn’t be all her’s. 

Weariness causes Caroline’s face to contort, making her look older than her years, brows furrowing and eyes searching Darcy’s, expression tight for a tense moment that stretches on for too long. Then, all at once, between one heartbeat and the next, trust takes it’s place and she nods through Darcy’s hands, leaning her face into her friend’s palm and letting her eyes close for the briefest of moments as if soaking in the warmth of the sun.

The moment ended with Darcy giving Caroline one of her warmest smiles that seemed to dissipate the remaining tension all at once, and they can all breath again.

“Barton, I’ll get a list to JARVIS if you want to help pick it up later. I’ll be in touch.” With fingers intertwined with Caroline’s she tugged her down the hall, leaving Barton to shuffle into the elevator on his own, face scrunched up in thought. 

~*~

“Max.”

“Get into bed Caroline, you’ll feel better after you sleep.”

“Max wait--”

“Caroline. I need to go meet Happy downstairs so we can get our stuff from my place, and go through the kitchen to put together a grocery list. I need to go.”

“ _Max_ ”

“ _What?”_

“Does he have my writing? Do I have his? Max, look at my words. _Tell me_.”

“Damnit. Do we need to talk about this now?”

“I just...I just need to know Max. Daddy is in jail, the government is taking possession of all my things, my other friends aren’t talking to me, and someone _spit on me_ on my way to my car. I--I need to know Max.”

~*~

Happy Hogan was definitely getting his own german chocolate cake next time she had enough free time to bake, or couldn’t sleep and started baking out of agitation. Either way, the man was getting his favorite cake for helping her haul in her clothes, books, and Caroline’s shoe and clothing collection she had built up at Darcy’s apartment which was nothing to scoff at. It was a necessary evil, and Darcy was still debating to Happy’s question of _so how long are ya ladies stayin’?_

Stark certainly wasn’t going to boot them out, but even before the information about her connection to Bucky came to light and the revelation of Caroline and Clint made itself known she had not been keen on moving into the tower even though Stark had offered repeatedly. 

Now?

Now she wanted to even less. Later when she was less tired and less sober the fact that her long term fuck buddy was her life long best friend’s Soulmate was going to be _hilarious_ , right now it just made her want to hit her head against the wall. There was sure a movie about this sort of situation(probably starring Emma Stone), where it had been neatly wrapped up in two hours, ending with just this side of tasteless speeches at a wedding. The screen would fade to black before the camera would slowly zoom in on a white picket fence suburban neighborhood that showed the two couples running around with their 1.5 children each, and of course the Soulmates would end up together. Movies where Soulmates met but didn’t end up together were always Independent; _tragic_ , _strange_ or even bloody. 

The thought of a future with their Soulmate comforted people in their dark hours, just like religion and alcohol. No one wanted to think that they would die alone, and if the person fated for you rejected you then why would anyone else accept you?

At least, that was the general consensus. 

Darcy and Caroline had unique perspectives, Caroline’s parents were matched but her mother cheated on her father which caused her to be cast from High Society. Martin Channing never looked back, and Caroline loved and admired her father too much to be resentful(most days).

While Darcy’s words had an unavoidable impact on her she was raised and every relationship she had, romantic or purely sexual. There were people who weren’t afraid to be in relationships with someone other than their Soulmate, and a good portion of them sincerely invested in those relationships--the heart wants what the heart wants after all.

But even Darcy’s charm was not usually enough to quell apprehension once they found her ominous words. Clint was the closest thing to a long term romantic relationship she had ever had. Which was probably _hysterical_ from an outsider’s perspective. If it wasn’t for her amazing family and Caroline she would be more cynical than she is.

Darcy had grown up with the perspective that she wouldn’t end up with her Soulmate; better yet, he wasn’t someone she would want to be with. Then her first meeting with him did not fall into any of the horrible possibilities that her and her father had planned for, and she had moved on. Eventually she would find love, surely, but it was never really on her list of priorities, not even in her top five. It was a hard thing to do, when most of the population was waiting for someone specific, even harder when your words scared people.

Now the rug was being yanked out from under her, it was hard to say how many of the Avengers knew now. Her secrets. They were _hers_ , except now they weren’t. Her home away from home wasn’t ever going to be the same, without a doubt no matter what happened between Caroline and Clint things between her favorite orgasm-giver and her were definitely over. At least, the orgasm part, she was fairly sure that her and Clint’s friendship could endure this weird situation, and that he would believe her that she had no idea about his connection to Caroline.

She _needed_ him to believe her, because she was just now realizing how much she needed him around. Darcy--like her father, was not given to bouts of introspection(unlike her mother), to which she could(and would) blame this belated realization.

Even with his (mostly?) legal but still somewhat dilapated building in Bed Stuy, his weird relationship with Kate, the old scabbed over wound that was his relationship with Bobbi and his dysfuntional relationship with Barney her friendship with him was something she could rely on.

To top it all off, she had to look after Caroline more than ever, and watch her uncle figure get carted off to trial.

Damnit.

A knock on the door made her jump and groan, wanting to snap and tell whoever it was that they could just _fuck the hell off_.

Except she was in Stark Tower, and there was a decent chance she knew whoever was on the other side, and she felt more indebt to Stark now than she did that one time he rescued her from AIM. It wasn’t a feeling that sat well with her independent side, but it would have to be set aside from later.

With a sigh, and more force than necessary, she yanked open the door, surprise clearly written across her features when she saw who was on the other side, “Hey Steve-o. What--” Her eyes drifted from his face, trying to ignore his expression that he wore when he was about to go into a meeting for something he disagreed with or people he disliked, settling on what was in his hands, “You brought my books! Thanks.”

He seemed to fidget for a moment before placing the books and papers she had left in Tony’s lab in her open hands, “No problem. How is your friend?”

Darcy adjusted the books in her arms with a practiced ease from years of trudging across college campuses with full arms, finding herself subconsciously relaxing with the familiar weight, “Caroline. She’s going to be fine, she pulls together well, she’s sleeping.” She leaned against the doorframe casually, feeling more like she was back in her dorm than she had in a long time, “Rest is the best medicine.”

The man with a plan just nodded, eyes darting from the door back to her face, “Good to hear.” Except the warm Steve Rogers smile that should have accompanied his words wasn’t there.

It made her wary, and on any other day she would have poked at him until he spilled over with whatever was going on behind the curtain. 

Just not today. Today she was drained, body and soul, worn, spent and hollow, she wanted nothing more than to curl up around Caroline in a nest of pillows and sleep until their world’s made sense again. They could wake up, make a cushion fort and sleep some more, just like when they were young.

So she stepped back, flashing him another polite and tired smile, moving to close the door, “Thanks again Steve, I’ll bring Caroline around tomorrow for proper introductions. See you then--”

Except he stepped forward, foot moving to stop the door from closing, “Darcy. We need to talk.”

_Damnit_

“Really? Wow, here I thought you were just being a considerate friend. Should’ve known you had other motives.” He did not pick a good day for this nonsense, that was for damn sure.

A familiar sigh, coupled with a resolute look, “I am being a considerate friend Darcy. You can trust me, you know that. But I think waiting will make it worse.”

“Damnit Steve, couldn’t you guys at least give me one day?” She peered down the hall suspiciously, irritation twisting her face into a scowl as she looked around for James.

If anything, he seemed to become more determined, “Actually it’s just me. James is still digesting what happened.” He didn’t specify if that _what_ referred specifically to today, or what had happened years ago, though it really didn’t matter at this point.

All at once the steady, simmering irritation that she had been stewing in since she heard his knock grew in intensity, burning away the exhaustion she felt.

_How dare he presume?_

This man came to talk about something that did not involve him, on a day when she quite frankly, had bigger things to worry about. 

This man who was a friend of a friend.

Who was not family, and had only known her for a scant few years.

Thought he had any right to discuss something like this with her.

He wasn’t _blood_ like Darlene, who had welcomed her mother into the family and helped her balance out her father’s protective paranoia of her.

He wasn’t like Caroline, who was family in all but name, who talked with her on the phone at 3am when she developed insomnia in seventh grade, who stuck by her even when she defended them against bullies with a little _too_ much viciousness.

He didn’t know a _damn_ thing about her if he thought this was going to go well.

No time like the present to learn though, ‘cept the hallway wasn’t the place for it.

Darcy stepped back, opening the door wider and gesturing theatrically, mouth twisting into a come-get-me-grin, “Come in Captain, lets talk about something that ain’t got shit to do with you.”

~*~


	6. Where she takes a stand.

  
Forgive, sounds good  
Forget, I'm not sure I could  
They say time heals everything  
But I'm still waiting 

cared for it to be normal. That’s all it was too Darcy, normal. She collected people, and got the instinctual urge to take care of others from both her parents. The compulsion to wrap up her friends in blankets and feed them while simultaneously hissing at and/or shooting at anyone who threatened them.

It wasn’t pity of course, and Darcy respect (and was a little in awe of) Skye’s sheer will to survive and carve out her own hole in the universe whether the universe liked it or not. Skye didn’t have a soulmark, didn’t have a history or a family, but she kicked ass all on her own without these things.

Plus she had already started helping Darcy improve her hacking skills, so that was fantastic. 

That was for later though, for now she was enjoying threading her fingers through her friend’s locks, gently detangling it with her fingers when they met stubborn tangles. She had big plans for Skye’s beautiful hair, a crown of braids with flowers neatly weaved in, fishtail braids and maybe even giant corkscrew curls just for giggles. Caroline and her could have a blast with Skye, movie marathons and making milkshakes with _all_ of the ice cream.

Maybe. Hopefully. One of these days. Skye deserved that sort of day, Skye deserved for that to be a regular sort of occurrence, instead of just something she saw on TV.

For now, she settled for running her nails along her scalp gently, tugging on her hair with barely-there force, and massaging her temples with her fingertips. The tension slowly leaked from her shoulders as Darcy hummed some ridiculous 80’s hairband song that had been stuck in her head all day.

“You should come for a holiday or five with my family some time, we can make you an honorary Lewis. It comes with a lot of benefits you know.” It probably sounded silly to Skye, the two hadn’t spent all _that_ much time together, a week from last time Coulson needed Jane, and scattered, erratic emails and text messages between them since. When she felt out of place around Jane and Erik, or lost in a mountain of schoolwork, it was nice to have Skye even if she was in [UNDISCLOSED LOCATION] somewhere in the world.

“An honorary Lewis?” Skye laughed, “What kind of benefits come with that?”

“Lots of food mostly,” Darcy shrugged, “Just saying, my momma would love you, along with most of my family. Hacking into the government like a BAMF with a laptop you won from a bet.”

Skye fidgeted in her seat, head ducking to hide a grin, “Yeah? But I thought you said your mom was a hippie. Aren’t they all about ‘chillin’ out and smoking pot all the time these days?”

Coulson’s eyes flicked over to them briefly before returning his full attention back to his discussion, “Oh she definitely is, and we totally have smoked pot together--” She leaned forward to rest her chin on Skye’s shoulder to whisper theatrically, “Don’t tell my dad!”

She leaned back as Skye giggled, resuming the head scratches, “She still is, still thinks Jimi Hendrix was but a God who walked among us for a time, but she doesn’t like government taking things, or keeping secrets, and is 100% about ladies empowering themselves. So moral of the story is; you should come and spend a holiday with my family and I.”

“It’s not--” Her voice became more quiet, with eyes downcast and shoulders hunched just enough for Darcy to notice, “It’s not a pity thing is it?”

“Naw. It’s a I care about you thing, and I love to subject other people to food comas on Thanksgiving thing.” With that assurance Skye smiled again, and Darcy couldn’t help but wrap her arms around her in a bear hug.

~*~

Darcy handed Steve his mug of tea as she joined him on the modest balcony attached to her and Caroline’s guest suite. It had gone without argument that Caroline and Darcy would be staying suite, even though there were plenty available. Bless Happy for not even raising an eyebrow as he helped carry in boxes of books, showing more restraint than he did when her landlord started yelling at her because of the paparazzi outside bothering the other tenants.

Assholes, all of them.

She took a tentative sip of her tea, one that Bruce had recommended before bed and to help wean her off of coffee. Fat chance that was.

“So how much do you know?”

Steve cleared his throat, eyes on the skyline instead of her, “After you left, James was kind of in shock Everything just poured out of him, he remembered everything from when he first met you.”

 _Damnit,_ ”Great so everyone knows.” Another sip of her tea, while she wished she had added some pep to it.

“No, not everyone just Tony and I. We can keep secrets.”

Darcy sighed and shook her head, “No Steve, Tony’s words can keep secrets but his tone and his expression cannot. Everyone knows, or will know soon.” It wasn’t that big of a deal though, was it? It’s not like it was something she was ashamed of, it wasn’t her dirty little secret(no, this wasn’t it). It’s just.

It was private.

When you spend your life smashed between Superheroes and Super Secret Government Agencies, not much is.

“It’s not going to change anything Darcy. You’re still a part of this team.”

Sometimes, she hated his Inspiring Captain America voice, “Hm.” How long had it been since Caroline called her?

“I want to talk to you about how you feel about James and why you didn’t tell him, or me, when we met.”

Eight, nine hours? 

“It was--” Steve’s hand clenched on the railing of the bars, eyebrows drawing into a sharp V on his face, “It wasn’t right, what you did. Or didn’t do.”

Fuck, she feels like she’s been run ragged. Which is silly, because she really hasn’t done that much all things considering.

The tea was too hot for Steve to be taking big drinks like he was, but he doesn’t seem to be all there right then, wrestling with thoughts, with trains and cold blue eyes in his mind, “James has been through so much, so many people keeping secrets from him and manipulating him, even since he turned himself in. For his Soulmate to keep this a secret from him it’s just...I wouldn’t think you were that cruel Darce.”

It wasn’t that she was physically exhausted she realized, more emotionally drained that bled into physical weariness. The Star Spangled Man standing there on her(Tony’s) balcony calling her _cruel_ and equating her to shady government douchebags in a sideways sort of way like he was _there_ like he knew a _goddamn_ thing was really starting to cause an itch under her skin. Her fatigue had allowed her to detach from the conversation, putting a barrier between them so her mind could wander, but this? This was pushing it.

Apparently he couldn’t read facial expressions at all either (or maybe it was just her that caused him issue) because he kept sticking his foot in his mouth, “He has the right to know about his soulmate, he’s half of the bond you know--”

Right! HA! The rights Soulmates had was something that was constantly in debate between the different levels of court in both the State and Federal government. Did Soulmates getting a divorce have different procedures? If someone was divorcing their non-Soulmate partner for their Soulmate did they get special treatment? The Right to know the identity of your soulmate and interact with them was largely brought up in connection to children, no adults. Could a parent legally keep their child from interacting or knowing of their Soulmate?

However, there was nothing concerning whether adults had any rights in that sense, at least, not to Darcy’s knowledge. So legally, she was completely in the clear.

Ethically? Morally? That was a whole ‘nother debate.

One that in this instance, Captain ‘This is my Righteous Anger Face’ America had a firm stance on. 

“--and It was selfish of you--”

The nerve of some people!

“To keep this from him. I couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t tell us.” Steve kept saying ‘us’ and ‘we’, forgetting that this came down to James and Darcy, not James, Darcy and Steve. It was like James spent so much time as Steve’s protector when they were growing up that Steve was trying to overcompensate and repay the favor now. Forgetting that James was a grown man who could very well make up his own mind and defend himself, former brainwashed POW or not.

Darcy took another drink of her tea, eyes down at the red liquid so hide her eyeroll, “So I finally realized,” _Oh boy, this was going to be good_ , “It was because you blamed James for what happened and I can’t stand by and watch him take on more guilt for something he wasn’t at fault for.” His eyes narrowed at her, and she could swear that his glare was felt even without being seen, “Why have you been looking at me like you’re bored?

At that Darcy finally gave in, took a deep breath and placed her mug on the railing so it would be safe. Smoothed her hands down her shirt and snapped--”Because I am.” She didn’t even have the grace to look apologetic at his appalled expression, “Alright, that’s partially incorrect. That was actually my Restraint Face. I think you should probably get used to that expression, _buddy_ you’re going to see it often.”

Darcy could feel the tiredness slowly drain from her, the sharp and bitter taste of anger moving her tongue and chasing the sluggishness from her veins. She always loved her coffee, but the only thing better than caffeine at waking her had always been her temper, and even Captain America being the subject of her ire wasn’t going to change that.

“Alright. We are not having a shouting match on my balcony while my friend sleeps pretty much on the other side of the wall, but I don’t want to drag these delusions of yours out either.” Hands on her hips and steel in her eyes, words concise and not rushed, with her mother’s passion and her father’s control, “So we’re going to have a very brief Come to Jesus meeting. Just you and I, and then you’re going back to your place with your tail tucked between your legs.”

One by one she cracked her knuckles, short nails with mismatching paint flashing in the moonlight, “First let me make one major overarching correction--this is none of your business. I know you’re on a Never Ending Quest To Save Your Best Friend, but this is between James and I. That’s it. If he wants your opinion, that’s fine. But frankly? I don’t, and I definitely don’t want your lecture.” His mouth opened to object and she snapped her fingers at him before he could speak a word, bristling with her shoulders back, not a tremor to be seen.

“No. I am not done.” Steve’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, “Second; I didn’t even know Barnes was my soulmate until I met him that night in the hallway with you. You may not be aware but the physical description and identity of the Winter Soldier wasn’t exactly circulating on Facebook when I was in highschool. To be honest I wasn’t looking for him before I met him in that club, and I wasn’t looking for him after.”

Darcy felt the urge to pace but refrained, fearing that if she gave in then the act would spell the loss of her composure and the calmness of her words, “Thirdly; I don’t blame him for what happened. There is no blame because nothing wrong happened,” He raised a skeptical brow but she held her ground and her confidence, “No I’m being serious, it wasn’t ideal, don’t get me wrong. But there was enough of James there to make sure I wanted what was happening, and I’ll always be grateful for that. I knew though I could _feel_ that he wasn’t all there, even though I couldn’t understand it. So if anything the blame is with me, not him. I have reasons for not telling him, for not having any sort of relationship with him, and I didn’t just flip a coin on it.” _Jackass_.

Darcy didn’t say that last bit, obviously, but it was there in her head and somehow it made her feel a little better, “Those reasons aren’t your business right now. If I tell Barnes and he tells you, that’s fine. But for now? Stop making assumptions about me. Let Barnes handle his own life for fucks sake.”

“Are you done?” His tone clipped, lips thinning into a scowl and eyebrows pointing downwards into a sharp V.

“Yep. You’re dismissed.”

Ah, if only she had a picture of his face. Maybe she could bribe Jarvis to send her a freeze frame from the balcony camera that she knew ran every time there were people out here, “You can’t do that. “

“No but I really can. Leave. Leave now. We’re friends Steve, and I think you forgot about that today because you got tunnel vision with Barnes involved. You do that a lot. So go, think about the bigger picture for a bit. Sleep on it.

Steve puffed out his chest, shoulders back, preparing for a stand off, “We’re not done--”

“You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. I’ll call Thor, I’ll call Tony or Clint, or hell if you really refuse to leave I might just shoot you. Lord knows it won’t hurt you, it’ll just make a point, but I don’t wanna. Most days I like you Cap. Now go.”

“Fine. But I’m still disappointed in you Darce.”

“Along with my 6th grade math teacher, you’re in good company. Goodnight Steve.”

~*~

“Hey Caroline?” Darcy could write a book on her best friend, and at least one chapter on the stages of Sad Caroline. This was Stage three; Sleepy Burrito Caroline, where Caroline would wrap herself in a comforter or quilt and drift between asleep and awake for as long as her body(or her best friend) would let her. Or until Stage Three.

Over the years a stage 2.5 had been developed, Max And Caroline Burrito Cuddle Time. It was a sacred stage, and it was always up to the one who was not currently Most Sad to initiate it, out of sheer willpower and stubborness alone.

“Caroliiiine. Are you alright?”

“No” The voice was muffled and quiet, lacking in her ever present confidence, even though she knew what she was walking into and she had prepared for it there was still a pang in her chest as her throat constricted at seeing her closest friend like this.

She moved to sit on the bed edging to the middle where her friend was wrapped up, “Hey. It’s okay to not be alright.” From the top of the cocoon Caroline had formed there were bits of blonde hair sticking out, and it would have looked comical under any other circumstances.

“I met my soulmate yesterday Max. With makeup down to my chin, my hair, my clothes my everything messed up. I probably even smelled bad,” Worse than sounding upset, she just sounded downtrodden and despondent, “You know what the worst part is? Daddy and I had talked about when I met my soulmate. We were going to go out to dinner and celebrate, he was always so optimistic about my match even though his cheated on him. Now he’s in jail, I can’t even tell him.” 

It was like the two friends were cursed with unfortunate beginnings with their Soulmates, Caroline had tentatively optimistic vision of her Soulmate her whole life just to find out he had been friends with her best friend for years--and sleeping with her for a year of it.

Then she meets him on one of the most awful days of her life, and can’t even take comfort in her closet family member’s presence. It had Murphy’s Law written all over it.

In a gesture that was reminiscent of nights spent on the ‘bus’ with Skye, and more importantly sleepless nights with her mother when Darcy’s dreams were at their peak, she threaded her fingers through Caroline’s hair she could reach. The silence lingered between them, a quiet acknowledgement that yes; this definitely wasn’t a great situation and Caroline had every right to wallow and be sad.

But she was here, and she wouldn’t let Caroline forget that either, no matter how deeply she burrowed into the blankets.

“I’ve known your dad for most of my life and you know what? He’s totally going to be elated when you tell him about this. He won’t care he’s awaiting trial. You’re going to make his day.” Pretty blue eyes peeked over the blanket at her, and Darcy picked up in both energy and level of theatrics, giving a dramatic eyeroll at Caroline, “Better yet, he’ll use it as a life lesson.”

Now she started to hit her stride, arms gestured wildly with her shoulders back for a more stiff backed posture, imitating ‘Mr. C’ as he strutted around his fancy living room talking at the girls when they were teenagers. She held her head up high so she could stare down her nose at Caroline, whose eyes were still the only part of her face visible from the blanket burrito. 

“Now young ladies, this is an excellent,” Mr. C as played by Darcy had a fake British accent for reasons that would not be explained, apparently, “Example of how we can always take something useful out of negative situations.” Darcy paused, posing as if for a statue, chin high and eyebrows together as if she were scheming, “Only my beautiful and talented Caroline-- who won first prize at her first horse jumping competition you know,” At this Caroline did give in and giggle, because her dad really did love to bring that up when it was not relevant at all, “Would be able to turn this situation in her favor!”

Another giggle, and Darcy collapsed on top of her friend in triumph, “I’m not sure how you kicking ass at Horse Jumping Competitions ties into seducing your Soulmate, but I’m sure your dad will tie it in somehow.” With quick fingers, too fast for Caroline to stop her, she pulled the blanket down just enough to see Caroline’s face, “Ah, that’s your smile! That’s my girl!”

“Ugh. You’re such a drama queen Max.”

“Whatever. You love me.” Darcy stuck her tongue out in response, because you know. Maturity was her specialty, “You know what will really make you feel better?”

“Staying in bed all day and avoiding the outside world?”

“Nope!”

“Chocolate?”

“Well. Yeah. Obviously. But I am an expert on Caroline Channing, and do you know what Caroline Channings thrive on?”

Caroline Channing had just about enough of hearing her name and rolled her eyes to convey this while also trying to wiggle so the full weight of her friend wasn’t on top of her, “No, what do they thrive on?”

Darcy, of course, was immune to the eye roll after so many years(it was a talent, really), “Caroline Channings,” A smack to Darcy’s head for using both her names again, “Thrive on goals. So I have an easy goal for you. Other than getting out of bed.”

Feeling generous, Darcy rolled so she could cuddle up to Caroline’s Blanket Burrito instead of lying on top of her, “How about you take Clint a thermos of your fancy coffee I rescued from my apartment, and you introduce yourself. You know, take the first proper step, get back on even footing, own the game and all that. I’ll have breakfast ready and _Legally Blonde_ queued up by the time you get back.”

There. The plan was laid out, no schemes, no loopholes, and just a little bit of pressure. Now it was up to Caroline, and Darcy wasn’t going to push her anymore even though it was an awesome plan.

Finally she pulled the blanket down to her shoulders, “One condition.”

“Oh?”

“After breakfast, couch cuddles and _Confessions of a Shopaholic_ then we can watch _Tin Man_ , you can indulge your weird crush on Zooey Deschanel and I can indulge mine on Neal McDonough.”

“Accepted. Although I say again, _you’re_ the weird one for not also having a crush on Zooey Deschanel, I’m the sane one here.”

~*~

“Hey Jarvis, are Caroline and Darcy in their apartment?”

“No Mr. Barnes, Miss Potts has taken Miss Channing on a ‘Congratulations on Surviving Your First Week In the Tower’ girl’s day, and Miss Lewis is putting away groceries.”

“Ah. Would you mind asking Miss Lewis if uh.”

“If you could visit?”

“Yeah.”

“Certainly...Miss Lewis says she will make an extra sandwich or two for you, and she’ll be waiting for you in their apartment.”

“Thanks.”


	7. This is the part where she takes it too far.

  
Goodbye, my almost lover  
Goodbye, my hopeless dream  
I'm trying not to think about you  
Can't you just let me be? 

Bucky Barnes walked into the kitchen with some apprehension and maybe, just maybe, a little excitement. He wasn't sure what would greet him there, but he had been putting it off long enough.

(Even if he had his reasons. Even if they were well thought out reasons, no matter what his closest friend said)

Especially since he’d punched Steve for talking to Darcy before him, he really had no excuse not to talk to her himself. This was his can of worms, his circus, his monkeys, so he needed to deal with it. That’s what he told Steve--or rather that was what he yelled at Steve before punching him and storming out of the room.

Lord knows he was probably making it a lot worse than it was, the longer he sat on it.

The scene that befell him as he walked in was not one of the many scenarios he had conjured in his head the night prior. 

It was a bit like walking into a parallel world. Maybe a sitcom world, because it was something that he couldn't, wouldn't, get to ever have. He didn't deserve it, and it just wasn't plausible anymore. If it ever was.

Domestic.

That was what it was, Darcy, in a crooked ponytail, sweatpants and a raggedy band T-shirt like the ones that Stark wore nearly every damn day, cooking in the kitchen making something so simple as sandwiches. Just talking on the phone with an exasperated look on her face, she was still a sight that made him stop dead in his tracks. It was simple, and it shouldn’t cause the rush of emotions that threatened to crush his windpipe as he watched her.

It was almost a tease.

Like the universe was taunting him.

 _This is not something you can come home to , Bucky Barnes._ It whispered in his ear.

Coming home from work after a long day, someone you love waiting for you, making dinner and chattering away with friends or relatives like she didn't live with a murderer. 

_This was not in your cards, Barnes._

_You lost this._

_If you ever had it._

The whispers and the taunts were loud, but he sat down at the table and focused instead on her voice, speaking of inane things of no consequence. An accent he normally only overheard through the lab walls when she was angry flavored her words, and it was a comfort almost--that there was a layer of herself already peeled back instead of defenses and hackles raised.

"The family inn’t going to excommunicate Dawn for bringin’ a girl to Christmas Darlene, we’re not the Catholic church." Darcy’s deft fingers flipped the sandwich in the pan without a spatula, the motion practiced and obviously with familiar to her. “We have significantly less child touchin’ and far more wine,” She rolled her eyes at the phone and smiled at him, like they were old friends commiserating in the complaining of a relative instead of near strangers who happened to have a shared circle of friends and spent so much of their time in the same building. Who had somehow managed to stay near strangers even with these circumstances, even with the dreams.

Well. It made more sense when it had soaked in that she had planned it that way, maneuvered so they wouldn’t know each other. Wanted to not know him so badly she had avoided team bonding gatherings she had been invited to, stepped around him in hallways and meeting rooms like he had the plague.

He focused on the chatter.

Watched her spread butter on a piece of bread and throw two slices of different kinds of cheese on it. "Don't worry, Caroline is fine, you know her, bounced back with her lipgloss still perfect an’ hair shinin’ in the sun."

She grabbed another already buttered slice of bread to top off the sandwich before turning around and dropping it on a pan he had hardly noticed. "Look, Dar, I gotta go my guest is here."

Darcy smiled at him in a way that was clearly supposed to convey apologies even though he would be happy to just sit there and listen to her talk about nothing and everything. To sit around her without her watching him like a mildly threatening puzzle, walking around the kitchen relaxed instead of always being aware of where he stood so she wouldn’t accidentally get too close.

"Oh c'mon don't be like that," another eye roll, and as she turned back around to grab another slice of bread, he noticed there was a plate with several sandwiches already done. “You complain about Yankee rudeness and yet you’re encouraging me to be as inhospitable as one.”

There was a pain in his chest as if it were being crushed, and it was so _stupid_. They had never had a conversation, he hardly knew anything substantial about her and she had withheld their history together for six months before he found out by accident. For all he knew she was never going to tell him.

As much as he reminded himself of these things, it didn’t stop him from wanting her--

Or.

Maybe not her. Maybe the idea of this. Of coming back to the predictability and safety of home, to someone who wanted to see him everyday, someone who helped him _remember_ and ease into the maw of his past without the feeling of his skin peeling from his bones that so often accompanied remembrance of the time before Darcy.

Except--

Except he did know her. He knew that Natasha, Steve, and Bruce all respected Darcy and valued her as a friend. He knew that a week ago she had dropped everything to take care of her closest friend, giving up her apartment in the process and moving into a building she had swore she would never live in. He knew that Pepper Potts was slowly grooming Darcy for a high position in Stark Industries, but not out of nepotism.

Perhaps most importantly, he had been dreaming about her for years though he wasn’t able to remember them with any sort of clarity until he broke free of HYDRA. James could pick her mother’s laugh out of a lineup. The feel of Darcy’s favorite fuzzy socks and the sensation of sliding down a long hardwood hallway in her grandmother’s house in Georgia. The sandwiches were her comfort food, and the number of them stacked on the plate was a testament to both Darcy’s habit of stress cooking and her ingrained need to take care of people. 

Even if it was him.

The conflict of the pull to someone who he _rationally_ shouldn’t take such comfort in, and the unshakeable need to bury his face in her hair and hear her laugh made his own head hurt. The worst part was that he couldn’t blame anyone but himself, just his own over-analyzation and insecurities.

That, and some damnable words on his skin and her’s. 

Some couples, or some friends, needed to touch one another to find comfort. Some needed to hear words of assurance, to know the other was there and that they cared.

As odd as it might seem, even to him...James thought he did not need any of that. The whispers had stopped, the niggling guilty voice in the back of his head had ceased, just from listening to her voice as she went off on a sudden tangent about New York drivers, her need to be a good host suddenly forgotten. 

His eyes drifted shut, the sound of the sandwich hitting the pile and another falling into the pan, a fresh smell of melting butter and parmesan drifting through the kitchen easing the pain in his chest. 

“Sorry about that.” He was jarred back to reality by a plate and glass being set in front of him and Darcy’s voice suddenly closer. “I feel like everyone has that one Aunt who you just can’t have a short conversation with.” She turned back to the kitchen to grab her own plate and glass of milk before joining him to sit on his right hand side. “One time I called to tell her I was on the way over to pick her up and she started telling me about her dog’s vet appointment and I had to interrupt her--Dar! I’m going to see you in 10 minutes. Tell me then!”

Her laugh cut off abruptly at the unsure look on his face. “Oh. Except you.” Damnit, the look of relaxation he had walked into was already seeping away from her like a balloon deflating and he struggled to find a way to stop it.

“My ma’ was like that,” James cleared his throat, trying for the casual speech patterns that only came to him rarely these days, “Steve an’ I would come by just to tell her we were going somewhere for the afternoon an’ she would go on for half an hour about something my sisters did while we stood half out the door.”

It felt good to share something mundane with her, watch her tentatively smile as thanks because _thank you for sharing something unimportant but personal with me_ was a little awkward. 

Though he wasn’t hungry, he tried the sandwich anyway out of both politeness and a cheap stalling tactic. This was nice, and he didn’t want to ruin it, even though that was the whole reason he had come looking for her.

“I’m sorry you found out in front of the guys,” Darcy made a point to look him in the eyes as she spoke, and he appreciated that. “I hope Tony wasn’t too much of an ass about it.”

Stark had actually shown remarkable maturity about the whole thing, even after he had explained that he had taken his friend’s virginity in a dingy bathroom which had frankly surprised both super soldiers.

The silence was drawn out as they ate, and James wasn’t sure if it was awkward or comfortable. Social cues and what was polite was still something he only intermittently grasped these days. Sam and Steve understood too well about that. Maybe they had spoiled him with their patience.

“I should apologize--”

“Please don’t.” Darcy brushed crumbs off of her hands into the plate, this time not looking at him as she spoke, “If you’re apologizing for Steve being an ass then you’re not the one who should apologize. He’s an adult. You don’t control him. If you’re apologizing for the sex then it’s unnecessary, you made sure I was willing--”

As if doing the bare minimum was something he should be applauded for.

“--We were destined, or fated, whatever. To meet that way. Believe it or not, it’s really not even in the top five worst case scenarios I was prepared for.” If that was meant to be a comfort to him then she failed, because thinking of a girl growing up having disaster-survival plans for meeting their soulmate because of him caused an uneasy feeling in his gut.

Darcy fidgeted in her seat under his scrutiny, “Anyway, it’s not something I re--” Regret. That was the word she almost said. Common in these sort of situations he thinks, to assuage someone else’s guilt for an action.

It’s also the word that made her confidence stop, suddenly and visibly unsure..

“You don’t have to make me feel better about anything. Steve’s got that covered. Along with my therapist, and Sam. I don’t need it from you too.” The glass he hadn’t realized he was holding made a quiet noise as it cracked under his hand and he set it down quickly before he actually broke it.

James didn’t miss the way her eyes tracked the movement like a mouse watched a cat.

He wondered what she would do if he reached for her suddenly. Would she scream? Scramble out of her chair to get away from him? Was that fear, simmering just below the surface of her skin, or just understandable wariness at his behavior?

Wisely, he decided not to try and find out.

“Are you still going to avoid me?” Darcy jumped in her chair when he finally spoke again, tone level and even.

“No.” The oddly spaced silences between them were definitely heading into uncomfortable territory, even he wasn’t oblivious to that now. “We can try and be friends. It’ll be easier with Caroline and I temporarily living here anyway.”

James finished his sandwich and thought over what she said, wondering exactly what temporary meant in this instance. It could be anywhere from a week to a month, and once she did leave would she stop coming to the tower with the same frequency as before because of him?

He didn’t ask any of those things, because it wasn’t his place. Not yet, maybe not ever, “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

Darcy just nodded and reached for his plate as she took her own in hand before standing from the table. She was halfway back to the kitchen when she stopped and turned back to him, movements stuttering. “Barnes. We aren’t going to.” 

Darcy stopped herself and took a deep breath, placing her dishes in the sink so she could lean against the counter and look at him, “We are only going to be friends, even with these.” She said it resolutely, tapping her thigh where he knew her soulmark was.

The pain in his chest was back, “Ever?”

“I don’t know. Probably? I mean, are you even ready for anything beyond that at this point? Couldn’t it possibly make you worse?”

It was hard to tell through her sudden frustration if she was sincerely concerned for him or looking for excuses for them to not have a possibility of anything in the future.

Not that he could blame her for the latter, if it were the case.

“I don’t know, Darcy, there isn’t an official timeline for transitioning from _asset_ to _person_.” She flinched like he’d slapped her, and he felt guilty for it but there was an undercurrent of resentment and anger thrumming through him now that overpowered it.

Resentment that he had lost something else to HYDRA and hadn’t even realized it. “Maybe you should be more focused on getting better than chasing someone who you think you’re obligated to be with because of a matching set of words we didn’t choose.” Her temper rose with his own, even when he stood, the chair making noise as it scraped across the floor.

Darcy stepped back, on guard and afraid but not enough to back down, “I _am_ getting better, you don’t know that because you don’t know me.” Maybe to her he wasn’t just the Soldier, but he still wasn’t a person to her. To most people. The only thing worse than fear when people looked at him was pity.

Poor Bucky, Captain America’s best friend who was captured by the enemy. Hardly functional, hardly a person, hardly safe. That is what she saw when she looked at him, “I’m not talking about going on a date next week. But just something to look forward to that HYDRA couldn’t take from me.” 

(Much later this will be the part of their encounter her chews on, replaying until the image begins to scrape at his mind like sandpaper. Because this is the moment she shuts down.)

“No, Barnes. You didn’t care about me when I was just Darcy, an’ you don’t really care about me now that you know we’re Soulmates. I’m not gonna your attempt at normalcy, I will not be your way to get back at HYDRA.” The color to her words that had begun to fade after getting off of the phone creeped back in with her displeasure.

Her fingers twitch, and he knows almost instinctively--a mix of watching her and the dreams--that it’s a sign of her agitation rather than nervousness. Darcy moves when she’s upset, that’s one of the reasons she crochets. It’s annoying, thinking fondly of mundane things related to this woman who obviously doesn’t care. But it’s hard for him to stop his brain from generating things, a disjointed collage of information smashed together from various sources.

Darcy sighed, staring at the dishes as if debating what to do with them, “Look Barnes. I don’t dislike you. I just don’t think you’re in a good place for this now, maybe you’re latching onto this as a reprieve from--”

 _”You don’t know me._ ” He repeated this time as more of a snarl,, angrier than he meant, but it was hard for him to reign it in when she looked at him with pity in her eyes.

Darcy nodded, looking resigned, running a hand through her hair that caused the ponytail to look even more lopsided than it did before, “Yeah, you’re right. If I’m bein’ honest, I don’t think I have the time, the patience or the knowledge to be what you need. You’re going to think I’m bein’ cruel but,” She hesitated as if second guessing herself, voice softer but still sure as she spoke, “A woman who has had nightmares about you basically her whole life probably ain’t the best choice for you right now.”

There are a thousand words behind his lips as Darcy leaves, retreating to the elevator with quiet steps and a head held high. Words of anger, resentment, sadness,disappointment and it’s all too much, causing bile to rise into his throat and he doesn’t know how to react. He’’s still working on processing emotions after years of not having them, or not being allowed to. 

Still working on picking through and deciding _what_ he is feeling, and how to handle it.

So he did what he _can_ do, and what he thinks will help.

He went down stairs to punch the shit out of some bags until his own brain makes sense, or he’s too exhausted to care.


	8. Wherein everything that could go wrong, does go wrong and at the worst possible time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This format breaks from my normal one in two ways; I tell you what day it is, when normally I prefer to show you that in text ( a week after ___ ) instead of just putting it as a header as you see below. I also jump POVs in different segments though that is not labelled outright. Hopefully this still works.

Everybody knows the dice are loaded  
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed  
Everybody knows that the war is over  
Everybody knows that the good guys lost 

“Anything that can go wrong, will—at the worst possible moment.” **Finagle's Law of Dynamic Negatives**  


Next week Darcy will sit on her bed wondering if her and Bucky’s barely-there soul bound causes them both to suffer when the other is having a string of bad luck. Because the week previous one or both of them was having The Worst Day Ever every day. It is easier for her to wrap her mind around that explanation than just The Universe is Against Them.

The Darcy of last week was optimistic and naive. The Darcy of the next week is weary and far more cynical.

(This is the beginning of the optimistic week, in all its wide eyed glory)

 **Sunday**  
Darcy can forgive Jane for a great many things--she’s Jane, - but her weird dislike of kettle corn might just fall into that realm of Too Much To Let Slide. It’s enough to distract her from their Once Upon A Time marathon, which is also part of the TV Education of Steve Rogers marathon (copyright pending, obviously).

(Steve had come to her, just the day after her talk with Bucky to apologize. He brought cupcakes and new yarn but it was his sincerity to preserve their friendship that cinched her forgiveness.)

“Oh man, I have never related to Anakin Skywalker more right now,” Clint interrupted their Very Important Kettle Korn vs Popcorn debate as he entered the common area, running his hands through his obviously freshly washed hair. “I fucking hate sand. We should burn it all.” 

Darcy’s eyes narrowed at Clint even as Steve raised up his glass towards him. “I second that motion.”

“Oi, what did I do this time?” If Clint Barton had a dollar for every time a woman was glaring at him and he didn’t know why, he’d... well let’s just say he would have a lot of dollars.

For his trouble he got a piece of salty popcorn to the face. “Why are you here, dumbo?” 

Darcy reached over to Jane’s bowl (not wanting to waste her own _superior_ snack, of course) for more ammo, grasping at air for a moment when she realized that her friend had yanked it away in the hopes of preserving her food. Today was turning out to be such a good day and now there is this. 

“Because I live here part of the time, and the shower is more reliable here?”

Both statements were true, but Clint still managed to sound unsure and wary about his answer. It didn’t help that Darcy was rubbing her temples and Steve was glancing between them as if trying to gauge what exactly was going on and if he would need to get involved.

“You were supposed to go home after your mission; Caroline and you are having dinner.” It’s not that Darcy means to talk to him as if she is holding his hand and guiding him through this conversation, it just comes out that way.

Clint gets this doofy grin that Jane ‘awws’ at while munching away at her popcorn. It’s one he’s been getting more often when Caroline comes up in conversation. It’s an endearing expression to see on him,somehow it doesn't look as out of place as she might have expected.

 

“I know, she said she has a surprise for me, but what does that have to do with me going straight to my apartment? Dinner isn’t for another hour.” He cast a glance at the clock as if double checking,a sudden flash of panic at the possibility of completely fucking up the time.

“Yeah, the surprise is she’s at your place _right now_ making you dinner, with my spare key because you said you were going straight _home_ after your mission, Hawkguy.” 

The color drains from his face in a rush. Darcy should find it amusing and instead it’s seeps into her because it’s not Clint’s “oh shit I forgot to walk the dog” panic, it’s more of a “oh shit I forgot to disable that last bomb” panic. Darcy is shoving her bowl at Jane and standing before she realizes consciously what she is doing. “Clint!” She barks it like a command, knowing he responds to that quicker than gentle prodding.

It works, and he almost snaps to attention. “Barney is there right now.”

The urge to slap him upside the head is hard to resist, but Darcy manages (barely). “Two months is a little early to meet the in-laws isn’t it,Barton?”

Except Clint is turning to head back to his suite. “It’s always too early to meet my brother.” 

Well, at least they are in an agreement on that. Caroline hasn’t sent her an emergency text though, so with any luck it’s not as bad as the conclusions both her and Clint have jumped to.

All the same, she made a grab for her shoes and her purse and hurried after Clint to make sure he didn’t leave without her, shouting an apology and goodbye at Jane and Steve as she left the room.

 

Darcy opened drawer after drawer in Clint’s kitchen, muttering to herself all the while. “Damnit, boy can have trick arrows that contain goddamn _Flubber_ but can’t keep potholders without holes.” Patience falling into negative levels and annoyance at the whole situation peaking, she grabbed

a (hopefully) clean towel strung haphazardly over one of the kitchen chairs.

“Well, Caroline, good news is that the casserole is only slightly charred at the edges.” All the same she found herself waving her towel in front of the oven vigorously to try and disperse the smoke rising out of it, though she suspected that was more due to food of unknown age that was crusted around Clint Barton’s oven than the casserole itself.

“Why bother?” Said Eeyore Channing, with a sigh from where she was slumped over the arm of the couch like a discarded rag doll. “I’m sure he’ll be thinking Darcy could have made a better dinner--because he would be right, just like Darcy is better in bed.” 

One of these days she was going to punch Barney Barton so hard she might actually knock some sense into him, and getting her best friend stoned put him more than a little closer to that point. “Jesus H. Christ, Caroline, just because I can cook more than you doesn’t mean anything. I still can’t balance a checkbook or do algebra in my head like you can.” Darcy yanked the plates from the cabinet with an angry clatter. “I’m not even touching the sex thing.”

“Language, Max,” Caroline chides, hair askew in a way that would normally have her fussing in the company of someone she just met and her still somewhat recently found Soulmate. Except Caroline is the only person in the whole world who gets depressed and cynical when she is high off her ass. “What would Gramma Lewis say?”

Darcy dropped her scoop of casserole onto the plate before replacing the spatula back in the dish with a resounding _clang_ that echoed around the room.

Caroline flinched when Darcy marched towards her but didn’t proactively dodge the twisted up towel that her best friend lashed out with, snapping her hard in the leg.

She did whine though, rubbing at the spot petulantly like she did when they were children and Darcy’s father was chasing them through the kitchen with a wet towel after they tried to snatch still-sizzling bacon from the plate beside the stove instead of waiting.

“Gramma Lewis would say not to take drugged up brownies from shifty looking strangers, Caroline Channing!” Barney gave a muffled sound of offence but both women ignored it. Darcy had learned lecturing from the best, channelling her grandmother who could still snap a small squadron of grandchildren to attention with a sharp word a scowl.

Caroline was gearing up for a good sulk. All the signs were there; the curling up in a ball, the blanket she had dug up from Lord knows where that was drawn up to her chin.

Oh, and the pout. The pout was always a good indicator.

“Why does it matter?” she mumbled into the arm of the couch. “I don’t fit in here, and men that are attracted to you never like me except for my money.” Her lip wobbled, which was odd because Caroline never cried when she was high. “I don’t even have that anymore.”

Out of the corner of her eye Darcy could see Clint stand from the chair he had been sitting in, tense and uncomfortable.

“Caroline, that’s not--”

The Voice had a history of working on Clint, too. “Stop,” she held up a chastising finger towards him, “this isn’t about you, this is about her.” Darcy reached out with a foot to poke at her friend, “Caroline needs to embrace her self-worth without assurances from you.” 

“I can’t cook, Max, I’m not good at cleaning, I’m not good at being poor!” Caroline snapped at her, kicking at her foot, “Men don’t want poor flat chested girls who can balance a checkbook when they could have _you_.” She gestured vaguely to Darcy with a glare.

Clint continued to look supremely uncomfortable, though Darcy suspected he was at least partially put at ease by the dismissal of his help. When it came to taking down mercenaries, villains of the week or even disarming bombs Clint was definitely the guy to call. Pep talks and comforting someone? Not typically one of his best talents.

“Thank you so much for reducing me to my tits and my ability to run a house, your loving words warm me to the cockles of my heart.” Darcy nudged at the whining lump that was Caroline again, even though the only reply to her sarcasm she received was another whine as she tried to burrow further into Clint’s old ratty couch.

Maybe what happened next was Darcy’s fault. Maybe she should have left the nauseating display of Clint staring helplessly at a moping, melodramatic Caroline and returned to the kitchen. They had been friends since fifth grade, they were quite familiar with each other’s mood swings, and more importantly Darcy knew how Caroline got when she was high (hence the reason they avoided it). So she knew it would pass soon.

Except Darcy wasn’t in the mood to be that rational or level headed (apparently), so she pushed when she shouldn’t have.

The blanket she tried to tug down and away from Caroline’s face was worn but still somehow soft, softer than the attempt at an encouraging smile she was able to muster. “C’mon, even if you suck at being poor, Soulmates are supposed to balance each other out and have great chemistry, right? I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”

She flinched when Caroline smacked her hand away as she ripped the blanket away from her face to sit up with a sharp glare at her best friend. “Like my parents? great balance they had, until she was under the table with the whole country club, or you and James, who you can’t maintain eye contact with?” Darcy recoiled as if she had been physically slapped. “I’m too old for fairytales, Max, and you’re too old to be a hypocrite.”

Darcy didn’t see Caroline wrapping herself back up in her burrito of cynicism, but she did hear it, along with Clint calling her to come back before she stormed out the door.

 **Monday**

(Technically it’s Tuesday, but both James and Steve have adopted Tony Stark’s philosophy of “It’s not the next day/morning until you’ve gone to bed” so even though it’s nearly one, it’s still Monday. So you can just _shush_ with your technicalities)

_Shit_

“You alright Bu--James?” Steve asked him as he stood from the couch with an irritated look, the scowl that twisted his features a contrast to the Captain America PJ pants he wore.

“Yeah, I just mentally thought the word ‘shush’.” Bless Steve Rogers for knowing his friend so well that there was no further explanation needed.

Screw Steve Rogers for grinning at him like the smarmy little asshole he had always been as he reached out to kick his best friend’s leg to emphasize his asshole-ness, “I guess you better stop spying on Darcy and Caroline if you’re starting to talk like them.”

“Whatever.” He was half tempted to yank Steve’s blanket off of him and throw it across the room but he resisted. 

Barely.

“Jarvis, is the kitchen free?” It wasn’t that he had been careful in the past two months to not be alone with Darcy--who was so often in the kitchen, cooking, eating, studying or, on one memorable occasion, sleeping standing up. He just wasn’t in the mood to see anyone.

Honest.

“Miss Channing is currently the only one in the kitchen, Mr. Barnes.” 

His steps towards the door stuttered, a brief but heated internal debate going on in his head. Caroline was not as bad as he imagined (that went twofold; as the best friend of his soulmate whose first encounter was..less than optimal and a girl who had spent most of her life filthy rich), she hadn’t gone out of her way to get to know him or be rude to him.

Which, he supposed, the former was understandable with the stories surrounding him and his history, while the latter was the most he could have asked for considering the circumstances.

Besides, he itched to get out of their quarters and more importantly didn’t want to act cowed in front of Steve at the thought of being in the same room alone with Caroline.

“Don’t get lost!” Steve (the asshole) shouted at him as he pulled a shirt on, shuffling out the door with his middle finger up behind him.

James found Caroline surrounded by Darcy’s textbooks and papers with the characteristic smattering of color from highlighters and small post-it notes he had begun to associate with her. He knew, from eavesdropping on the lab like a ‘creeper’ (Stark’s words) that the habit of working, studying and organizing with as much color as possible had been Caroline’s influence.

It was odd, the things you picked up on when listening to things you weren’t invited to.

There was a plate of what looked like lemon bars in front of her, recently baked if the smell that lingered in the kitchen was any indicator. James found himself hesitating to interrupt her with his presence because she looked--well, she looked elsewhere, gaze lingering on nothing as she picked at a lemon bar and a slight downward pull on her eyebrows as if working out a puzzle.

“Lemon bar?” Ah. There went the choice then.

“Sure.” His ma’s lessons in politeness kicked in, you always say _please_ and _thank you_ and it’s rude to turn down food, especially if it’s homemade. “Thank you.” 

Caroline glanced up at him and he grappled mentally with the correct action at this juncture--did he just say thank you and leave, scurrying back into the dark hallway and the comfort of relative reclusivity? Should he ask what was wrong, or if something was wrong? There was clearly something off about her, proper posture slumped forward over the table, normally-flawless makeup smudged on her face and clothes more rumpled than she normally preferred.

Maybe it was the shift from viewing people as _targets_ back to viewing them as _people_ , the way communication had changed since he was last allowed to be a person himself, or just him and Caroline, because he couldn’t manage to convince himself _enough_ that there was something wrong with her. Enough to inquire, to show concern he wouldn’t even be sure was genuine.

So instead, he stuffed his mouth with an entire lemon bar, earning himself an amused and curious eyebrow raise before she went back to staring at something obviously _very interesting_ on the table.

“Max worries about Her People a lot,” she said suddenly, but it sounded like something that’s been eating at her. “Instead of pacing like a normal person she bakes their favorite dessert to keep busy.”

Should he say something in response? It doesn’t even really seem like she’s talking to him, actually..

“Her dad’s favorite is red velvet cake, her mom’s is dark chocolate brownies and her favorite aunt loves warm peach cobbler with butter pecan ice cream.” Caroline’s shoulders were slowly becoming relaxed as she spoke, so he let her go on, slid himself into a chair across from her and reached for another lemon bar.

It was just to make her more comfortable, it wasn’t because the lemon bars were surprisingly good. Bitter and tart, with the right amount of sweetness to chase it and a dusting of powdered sugar on top. He didn’t startle when she started talking again, though it was a near thing. “One time Uncle Bobby was shot on duty, a lot. Well, like four times. It was our first semester of college.” James envies Caroline, though he would never admit it outloud. She doesn’t say Max’s uncle because her friend’s family is her own and she doesn’t have a shred of doubt in that. The thought of what was and what would have been made his chest feel hollow for several beats. “Max was so worried; he was in the hospital for nearly a month, and she made so many snickerdoodle cookies the nurses and doctors started calling him Officer Snickerdoodle, she gave them out to the staff and the room always smelled like them.” 

Caroline had a wistful smile on her face as she became lost in the past. “She still aced all of her finals though, kept the rest of us from panicking by making us help her study, ‘Don’t cry’ she would say, ‘Quiz me! How will Uncle feel if he comes home and I failed my tests?’ So it worked, we stayed calm and both her and I aced our tests, Bobby came home and had a barbecue to celebrate everything working out.”

For a minute he thought she was done, that walking down memory lane had done better for her than it usually does for him and she was back to normal. Hell, if all it took to make her feel better is eating her food and nodding at her while she rambles he might be pretty good at this.

But she tensed again, the smile slid off her face and it’s back to the tense contemplative one she had before.

“Do you ever feel--” She tensed again, words stuttering and for a moment he thought she’s ceased breathing. The smile slid off her face, replaced by a look of troubled contemplation,, “like a burden? Like a _selfish_ ,” the word sounds venomous, though it’s not directed at him, “burden? Like I’m upset and shouldn’t be, so I feel guilty and then I’m upset because I’m guilty.” James was suddenly uncomfortable, but Caroline doesn’t seem to notice.

His mind scrambled for the politest way for him to _run the fuck away_ because it was dark, and her voice was suddenly small and she needs comfort but he can’t do that right now (or ever. really) not when the words _guilt_ and burden are scraping at his mind like a dull scalpel.

She was a near stranger and he’s a former assassin and a soldier; the words shouldn’t hit him like they do.

It is nearly one in the morning, and sleep has been a fleeting visitor since...Well, since he first broke from HYDRA. It’s a small comfort to his pride for this moment of weakness, that it apparently doesn’t show on his face.

Or Caroline is so caught up in her own thoughts she doesn’t notice.

“Max will be a good mother some day. With how she looks after Jane, me, Stark--well, how she looks after everyone that needs looking after, I guess. Better than my mother.” Caroline is scowling now with an angry bite of another lemon bar, and he has to strain to focus on her words because the thought of Darcy as a mother is twisting his insides making him feel like he’s lost on a boat at sea and he doesn’t know why.

“I found her in _improper situations_ with so many of the servants when I was a kid I thought it was normal.” 

_Oh_.

“" 'Mommy's Little Secret Keeper’ she called me, I thought I was so Adult, that she and I got to share something that no one else knew about.” That certainly explained some things, the running theory at the proverbial water cooler was that Clint and Caroline were taking it slow because of the previous ‘relationship’ between Clint and Darcy. 

This definitely shed a different light on it. That is, if her parents were matched

Caroline cleared her throat and gave him a wistful smile as if she could read his thoughts. “Definitely changed my perceptions of soulmates. Daddy didn’t directly blame me, but he gave me with this look of betrayal for a long time, which upset me which made me feel--it’s a circle, isn’t it?”

Was that a rhetorical question?

“Yes?” 

Caroline was obviously better at reading people than he was, better at seeing them as people instead of targets or possible assailants. “It’s okay. I know my problems seem so small compared to yours, and I must seem so whiny lately. I may have lost my giant house and diamonds but I still live here in this beautiful place, with my best friend still looking after me and food anytime I want it.”

She should have sounded happy to still be so comfortable, but she didn’t. Instead her words were seeped in bitterness, either at herself or how life had shaken out for her. It made him want to step out of his own comfort zone.  
“Just because I lost more doesn’t mean your loss isn’t real. Your dad is still in jail and just because you’re livin’ in comfort, it’s someone else’s so--” He shrugged, words failing him suddenly at a loss of how to comfort her.

It was hard to tell if it worked or if he made it worse because the full focus of her blue eyes was suddenly on him, watery and wide in a way that pinned him to his chair and made him squirm.

“ _Thank you_ ” She breathed out, voice breaking at the end, and he felt a spark of unexpected warmth that he was actually able to do some _good_ for someone for a change.

James didn’t mean to flinch when she reached for his shoulder suddenly, it was a despised habit and he hated his body feeling like it wasn’t his, like his reactions were out of his hands.

Her hand stopped, even as she cried just a little, silently trying to regain her composure. Caroline started to withdraw her hand, attempting to pull away from him both physically and emotionally in one simple motion.

It wasn’t something he would have flinched at before the war, shoulder punches and casual hugs were something _Bucky Barnes_ had delighted in, especially the latter from women. Here, in the relative privacy of the kitchen at one in the morning on a Tuesday with both of them on equal footing, feeling raw and exposed, he could take that part of him back. take the part of him back.

Apparently his resolve showed in his eyes because she reached for him again, smile tentative and still cautious, but he nodded and tried to smile as encouragingly as he could muster. For a moment she just grasped his shoulder, petite and well maintained hands (so different from even Darcy’s, whose nails were usually short and fingertips rough from work) a comfort in the dark for things she knows she doesn’t understand.

There was an odd constricting in his throat, chest suddenly heavy with an odd sort of longing he didn’t want to dwell on and he leaned into the touch. Caroline took it for an invitation and she leaned from her chair to his, wrapping her arms around him pulling him towards her. The man who was the Winter Soldier did not cry, but there was a suspicious burning in his eyes nonetheless when he returned the hug with a staggering fierceness that rose up from somewhere he tried not to dwell on.

Caroline Channing smelled like overpriced, fruity shampoo, and the cocoa lotion that he had seen being passed around the lab. She felt a little like victory and comfort in his arms though he wasn’t sure if it was victory over himself or HYDRA.

It was going so well that it had to end in him hurting, because there was no way around that for him, is there? So he should have been preparing for it, like the way you let out your air and brace your feet when you take a hard punch, but he wasn’t.

 _Idiot._ Naive.

Caroline stood and started to put away the food, and he let his hand trail across her shoulders because she was still smiling at him like he’s _good_ , she’s wasn’t afraid of him and he wasn’t _losing his shit_ for no reason as he so often does with human contact these days.

“Max is the one that pulled me through my parent’s divorce, and my mother’s social exile.” Well. That sounded dramatic. “I’m the one that hauled her from the club after you and her…” She cleared her throat and won’t say the word out loud, it would amuse him were it not for the subject matter. “I got her cleaned up, took her to get Plan B, I took her for STD testing. We look out for each other.”

Truthfully, he had been waiting for this from her. From Jane and any of the other seemingly random friends Darcy has acquired around SHIELD and SI since her arrival. The fact that it’s just now coming up is something he should probably be grateful for.

Except Caroline didn’t threaten him, not like Clint would have (maybe that’s why she wears Clint’s words), Thor or even Hill. Caroline is good with numbers, with people and words, she’s the big picture type, or so he’s gathered from observing and eavesdropping when he can get away with it. Confrontation and incitement through fear wasn’t her way; Caroline has plans and compromises in her repertoire instead of scopes and bowie knives. 

“Thank you. These past few months,” She had finished putting away the food and lingered beside him, a hand on his shoulder again, “for not reducing my sister to your soulmate, just treating her like a person.”

There are words, that clogged up his throat and clawed at his lips to get out. Made it hard to breathe, made it hard to see anything but _red red red_ and her sincere face smiling at him with gratitude and sadness all at once.

_Why is being my soulmate a reduction from being human?_

_Why are you acting like she’s the victim, like I’m a monster?_

_Don’t I deserve a soulmate? Another half? Don’t I deserve happiness after all I’ve given, after all that’s been taken?_

The last one cut through him and made his eyes burn as Caroline took her hand away and opened her mouth to say something else before seeming to think better of it and just left the room.

Caroline was right, right about _wanting_ more when you haven’t the right, when you have so much. About feeling guilty for being a burden, and then feeling upset because you’re guilty because why shouldn’t he (and her) be happy? It’s a circular pain that sends him twisting from crushing agony to white hot anger 

There’s no one to blame, and no one to fix it either. All he could do is breathe while he punched Steve’s specially designed bags, breathe through boxes of ammunition at the firing range and try to keep breathing through the night.

**Tuesday**

A man is sighted in Madripoor of all places, with a small red book with a black star. A woman with blue skin, red hair and gold eyes delivers this news to them. They ask why she came to them, asking for no money or any other form of recompense but offering no help otherwise.

James is the one who asks, because he’s hunted her before, knows that the only side she is on is her own and the things she has done. There’s blood on her hands from friend, foe, and family alike.

“He gave me a bad feeling.”

Ice runs down his spine. They let her stand and tip an invisible hat as her skin changes color and her voice deepens, “See you around.”

(Except, they won’t, of course.)

Steve suggests, quietly, maybe James shouldn’t leave the Tower for a bit.

 **Wednesday**

If Darcy hadn’t know any better, she would say that she was being spied on. Because the whole team (including Bruce, which is a wonderfully unexpected surprise) are watching _The Flying Circus_ and they had to pause it at Steve and Thor’s shared glee at finally getting the _Spanish Inquisition_ joke when she received the call.

No one expected the Spanish Inquisition, just like they don’t expect to get a call from a good friend working for a dead guy under the name of a supposedly defunct agency.

Then again, it was Wednesday, how did she expect her day to go? At least classes were over for the day.

“Hey girl, how’s it hangin’?” Darcy stayed on the couch and didn’t change her tone, smiled at her friends and nudged at Caroline’s thighs with her toes, a playful grin on her face.

The people around her could sniff out lies and secrets that lay underneath unusual behavior, so she showed none when Daisy’s voice comes over the line.

_”Hey Bobby Jo Gentry, wanna go have coffee?”_

It was a joke at first, because Caroline and her loved giving nicknames to their friends, Darcy was obsessed with music, and her family had code words (because they are paranoid like that). So while Jane worked on portals and Daisy helped hone her hacking skills, Darcy created a code system for them--largely lyrical in nature, with other random pop culture references tossed in for fun. 

Coulson liked it far too much.

“Sure, I’m always up for coffee.” That was said for the benefit of the ears around her, give a little and people won’t look for more, Natasha had taught her that. The name said _,This is not an emergency, do not panic’._ “Where do you want me to meet you?”

Because obviously, Agent Daisy Johnson wasn’t going to saunter up to Stark Tower to pick her up. Life hadn’t been that simple since she was chewing at a pen cap and deciding if she wanted to look at worms or stars for her internship.

 _”Foamy’s place, I want your opinion on an outfit.”_  
Foamy’s place meant Starbucks, and since she didn’t specify any particular location it meant the closest one. If someone had asked Darcy how she was going to bond with an Inhuman secret agent hacker extraordinaire, eccentric music tastes and references to classic internet cartoons would not have been it (but stranger things have happened). 

The outfit meant she needed her help on a mission which could mean any number of things, although hopefully that number hopefully did not include anything remotely related to bullets, knives, bombs or D; all of the above. 

She could practically hear her father’s voice in her head though, both familiar and mocking-- _Wish in one hand and shit in the other Darce and see which one fills up faster._

“But...It’s going to be so cold.” Darcy couldn’t help the little bit of whine in her voiced as she looked at the holographic map of some _terribly_ cold looking mountain in the Canadian wilderness.

New drinking game, everytime Coulson sighs like he would rather be anywhere else but listening to her, take a sip. “We just explained how there are at least 50 armed guards on site and you are upset about the cold?”

“Well one makes me sleepy and one wakes me up, that’s all I’m sayin’” _Sip._

Coulson’s undoubtedly exasperated reply is cut short by three more people entering the briefing room, the familiar and always comforting face of Trip escorting two people that Darcy recognized but couldn’t place right away.

“Hey pretty girl, thanks for coming along.” His professional face falls away at the sight of her, and he steps around the two with him to pull her into a hug and Darcy can’t stop from relaxing. It had always been hard for her to stay tense or upset around him and Daisy both, an effect they had realized and used to their advantage with their friend fairly early on.

He stepped back, hand lingering on her shoulder in support because college degrees, hacking skills and mingling with Norse God’s aside Darcy still managed to feel more than a little outclassed among the team when everyone was gathered together in battle mode like this. 

Being a smartass was not just a natural talent, but a shield as well.

Coulson gestured to the two newcomers who were watching her closely, a woman who looked to be younger than herself-- at least physically, but there was something in her eyes, the set of her shoulders and the way she walked that made ice run down her spine and the proverbial hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. 

The other woman was shorter than Darcy, muscled but thinner though it had no impact on the instinct shouting at Darcy to grab a weapon from someone to defend herself with or even hiss at the cold assessing look sent her way. Her family had taught her very early on how to respond to hostility, and while diplomacy was definitely in the books it was not always her default.

Instead she met her eyes, tried to stop her own hackles from being raised in response and just lifted one eyebrow with a _’Yes? Can I help you?’_ expression. Like Pepper when she’s being leered at, cool and collected, though she knew she was pretty far from Pepper’s level( a woman can dream though, right?)

The man, on the other hand was much more relaxed or at least he was trying to give the impression of such. The way he moved into the room reminded her of Natasha, like he owned the space but is comfortable enough with that knowledge he doesn’t need to intimidate anyone. He stood with a grace that made her lament her oversized garage sale hoodie as she tried to subtly adjust her posture like she tried to do just about every time Pepper and Maria sweep into the room all precise focus and hair just right.

He watched her with red eyes that she just _knew_ she recognizes from somewhere, though she couldn’t place them. Confident, comfortable but wary of the people around him, he assesed both the room at large and her in a less obvious (and less hostile) way than his companion while still looking like he owns the place.

“Darcy Lewis, this is Gambit and X-23, this is their OP so they will be explaining it properly to you.” Darcy reached out to him first automatically, years of manners so ingrained they couldn’t be shaken if she tried.

The names at least, shake the knowledge loose of her mind like dented file cabinets.

“Enchante,” Gambit kissed her hand. “I have heard tales of your cleverness and tenacity Miss Lewis, it’s a pleasure.” He looked up at her, red eyes still loud behind dark lashes from where his face is still tilted towards her skin. Amusement danced in his grin even though she knows a mask and canned lines when she sees one.

Pros of insomnia at Stark tower; access to Stark and SHIELD files with only a little finagling of logins and often only Stark’s running commentary and muttered cursing for company.

Cons of such a hobby; things read and absorbed at crazy hours after caffeine binges are not always learned in the proper order and can be hard to remember.

Just like her Anthropology final Freshman year and information on X-Men , apparently.

She got there eventually though, on both counts. “You’re Remy LeBeau aren’t you?” Of course he was, with the New Orleans flavoring his words, the fact that his first sentence to her contained a compliment not on her looks but on her mind and the bo staff on his back.

Tony said Remy had actually gotten Maria Hill to go on a date with him, but as that information had come from him at six AM when neither of them had been to bed yet she took it with a grain of salt.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the woman, no, X-23 roll her eyes and give an exasperated sigh at his words serving to all at once make her a little more human and less scary.

“I am chere, I see my reputation precedes me.” His grin widened even as he let her hand go, fingertips rough from the life he led dragging on her skin that caused goosebumps to raise on her skin.

X-23 hesitated in taking the proffered hand that Darcy offered her but did eventually, and it was the scars on her knuckles that trigger remembrance finally, “Laura, right?” Most people, when they are recognized, light up and even preen like Remy had. This woman, on the other hand, who looked close to Darcy’s age physically but carried so much more in her eyes and the weight of her steps, tensed and seemed to stop herself from recoiling from the handshake. _Ah,_ Darcy thought, _a minefield then_ , which was fine really. Darcy lived with superheroes and secret agents--and before that with a family full of former officers and soldiers--who she sometimes had to be very careful around.

This? This was something she could handle; hell, it was partially what she was making a career out of. “You are Wolverine’s--” Laura yanked her hand back, and even Remy seemed to pull his shoulders back at the mention of Wolverine, and Darcy can guess what they expect her to call Laura. _Clone_.

So she doesn’t.

“Protegee right? I’ve seen some clips of you in action, pretty impressive!” She tilted her head at the highlights in Laura’s hair and eyes it with sincere and undisguised admiration, “That’s why you wear his colors right? To honor his legacy? That is noble of you, I never met him, but I know he did a lot of good.” It’s the right thing to say, she can see it as Laura relaxes and naked relief mingled with surprise takes over her face.

Remy smiled at her, more genuine this time--less Cajun charm and more gratitude with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Darcy could have said a lot of things to Laura when she realized who the younger woman was. Could have said _sorry for your loss_ like she was shaking hands with her at a funeral, could have said _he was a good man_ except while Darcy had never met Wolverine she knew that _good_ and him were not always in the same sentence.

It was an empty sentiment, and didn’t acknowledge the depth of the man and the impact he had.

So she chose carefully, because what she said was true, because even for someone who only knew him by reputation there was no debate about his impact. Darcy was far too used to shaking hands of family left behind, and remembering the real person who was lost was the best way to honor them--not prettying up the memories or shoving them under the bed.

“Thank you.” Laura smiled at her, and it took over her face to make her eyes transform, one side of her mouth quirked up a little more than the other. It made her look younger, or rather closer to her actual age than the stern and tense expression she was clearly used to. Laura already reminded her of Bruce, who had two smiles that Darcy had categorized and described to him within a day of meeting him.

The first was the one seen most often, and it is forced and strained. It is the _shaking hands with someone who is afraid of me_ smile she saw when he meets new lab techs who won’t make eye contact with him. It’s the smile he uses to turn down invitations to social events. It isn’t very good, hardly passing really--Bruce isn’t very good at faking joy or warmth. It’s there or it isn’t for him. Darcy can appreciate that.

The second was genuine--it took years of stress and guilt from his face and just sort of made him _blossom_ , causing Darcy to want to see such an expression all the time. Bruce and Laura didn’t have the sort of smiles that Darcy or Pepper did, that could pass for genuine and happy when they were really feeling the exact opposite. She found herself completely drawn in by Laura when she gave her that genuine smile, even more so than Remy’s ladykiller grin, promising herself she would see it more often even as she knew that was probably a hard promise to keep.

Laura’s face flushed under Darcy’s admiring scrutiny and it made her realize that she had been staring at the other woman an uncomfortably long time. Oh. _Oops._

“Well, what’s the plan?” She cleared her throat and turned back to the map of the facility, both absurdly grateful that everyone hadn’t said anything while she _stared_ at Laura and Remy (who does that? Seriously Darce. Get it together!) and ridiculously annoyed that they didn’t save her from embarrassing herself.

Everyone stepped closer to the map but Remy was the one who spoke, “The Weapon X program has developed a scanner to find both Inhumans who have not been exposed to the Terrigen mists and Mutants whose powers have not surfaced.” He scowled. “Over the past three months there have been a rash of missing persons, and we have traced them back to three facilities.” 

“Wait, you mean children, don’t you? Like pre-teens and toddlers?” From what Darcy knew Mutants powers tended to show themselves at the onset of puberty so if they were being kidnapped before then…

Darcy was obviously the last to get this information dump, but even though the information wasn’t new it didn’t stop Daisy from looking angrier than Darcy had never seen her. Her face was twisted into a glare at the map, shoulders tight and tense with her hands curled into fists at her side. “They’re experimenting on them, Darce, and we have to stop them, but that isn’t good enough.”

Jemma stepped forward to motion at the map and the image switched to several different DNA groupings. “We believe they are trying to combine the two, turn Inhumans into Mutants for more devastating powersets, when their minds are still pliant and can be taken control of. ” She waved her hand over the display again and it changed  
to show a microchip, “They are being implanted with these, that seem to excrete some kind of chemical.”

“We hit the other two facilities, but weren’t able to recover anyone still alive.” Remy’s voice was bitter with guilt and failure, and Darcy had to stop herself from reaching out to him.

Laura brought the blueprints of their target back to the forefront. “We weren’t able to get any needed data from the last two, nothing about where the others are being kept, what they were doing to them or how to undo it. There are grids and sensors to detect both Inhumans and Mutants, anyone unregistered and alarms go off causing the servers to self destruct.”

“So you need someone who is good with electronics, and is nonpowered to go in and get the data before you guys rain hellfire down on the place.” Darcy was suddenly overwhelmingly grateful for the Lewis family trips to the gun range while also lamenting not taking taking up Maria and Clint’s offer for more training. 

(And dropping out of track in middle school.)

Because obviously, she wasn’t going to say no.

Which they knew, or they wouldn’t have picked her up. Darcy risked her life to evacuate a pet store when Dark Elves were attacking,; like hell was she turning down helping save kids.

Darcy rolled her neck and popped her knuckles before reaching into her bag to dig out the notebook and pen she kept handy. “Alright, what’s the plan?”

**Thursday**

The lights gradually illuminated his room, shifting from off to just above dim as Jarvis had learned to do before speaking in an effort to keep from startling him.

“Mr. Barnes, Agent Hill is waiting to speak to you.” There was a knock at his door, and the woman on the other side was obviously ignorant of his glare because she didn’t go away no matter how much his eyes narrowed at the offensive sound.

He rolled over in bed, full intending to ignore her until she went away. James Barnes may not be able to out-stubborn Steve but with any luck Maria Hill would prove a little less obstinate than his best friend--and even he had decided to let him sulk.  
Another knock.

 _Damnit_. First they stop him when he tries to leave the tower to go after whoever is probably auctioning off the book that can turn him back into a mindless weapon, then they let him roam the tower again, but it felt more like a mockery than anything else. Bucky knew he was effectively a prisoner. So he stayed in his room and worked on melding with his bed to become one life form, and apparently it still wasn’t good enough.

“Barnes. I come bearing gifts, cover yourself and open the door.” Gifts? Since when did Hill give gifts?

The blankets fell on the floor as he kicked them off, hands groping the floor for the most clean pair of sweatpants he owned, took a whiff of his undershirt to make sure it didn’t smell like sweat too badly before he shuffled towards the door.

“What?” All right, so his people skills needed some work. Sue him. He was still working on _being_ people, most days, especially this day.

Hill, being Hill, was not bothered by this in the least; in fact, to her, he was probably normal. It was a startlingly comforting thought that helped ground him and shake some of the proverbial cobwebs in his mind that he had let accumulate since he had been ‘sent to his room’. In her hand she had a binder and a headset with a microphone that she held up for his view but did not hand him. “We have a team heading to Madripoor now to get your book back. They are meeting Mystique and someone named Monet?” 

Hill turned and started walking down the hall, giving him the choice of shutting his door and hurrying after her to the elevator, or being left behind. It wasn’t much of a choice. He didn’t really care that he wasn’t dressed properly at this point because his mind was stuck on the fact that they were getting the book back.

And the fact that he wasn’t part of the team. “I want to go with them.”

“No.” Hill didn’t give an explanation, apologize, or try to placate him, just dangled the headset in front of him. “But we do want you listening, watching, and available if you have any relevant helpful tactical information.”

James reached out to slam his hand on the Emergency Stop button. “Jarvis, privacy please.”

For her part, Hill didn’t look off balance in the least, “This isn’t SHIELD’s call to make. This is my life.” There was no loud anger in his voice, only steady determination even if his stance was tense, poised for a fight but wanting to avoid this turning into one.

“The security of our country and safety of our people _is_ our call Barnes.” Her eyes softened. “You’ve done your time, paid your dues. Let us do this for you.” A feeling of dread culed in his gut, even though he knew she was right; he was a security risk if he

goes and gets turned he’s more of a hinderance than anything. Besides, this is _their_ job isn’t it? 

It wasn’t his, not anymore. 

Not his _job_ , not his _burden_ to carry alone.

A weight lifted off of his chest then that he hadn’t realized was there, and Maria gave him a relieved smile as he took the headset from her.

It almost made up for the feeling of helplessness as he watched the team disembark the plane Madripoor through the lens of a helmet cam, fists clenched tight below the desk.

**Friday**

This was a terrible plan. Kate Bishop should have been brought in on this instead of her, or Kitty Pryde, or that one guy in IT who wore Linux penguin hoodies every day and weighed a buck fifty soaking wet. Surely he could have run faster than her. 

Sharon could have done it, Sharon worked great under pressure and in new environments, why hadn’t Coulson just swallowed his pride and called her? Yes, she would have yelled at him, but she would be back on whatever secret base playing cat’s cradle with the kids now.

No.

It was an _excellent_ plan, because all the kids had gotten out safely, nothing worse than a bruise between them. The last little girl, no older than ten, had a USB key stashed into the coat Darcy had wrapped around her shoulders. Jemma, Fitz and whoever else they had to rope into this was going to fix all the kids and get them somewhere warm where they would be fed, loved and protected.

Yes, it was a fine plan.

The thought gave her the strength to wrap her hands around the cold bars of her cell door and pull herself to her feet. It was so cold, and her head hurt so badly--pulsing like she was in a terrible nightclub, and when she touched it she felt crusted blood there. Escape should be at the forefront of her mind, but it took all of her energy just to _stand_ for chrissake, and it was so cold her fingertips and toes were numb, all she wanted to do was sleep.

Rescue would come eventually, right?

Coulson, Daisy, May, Tripp--they wouldn’t leave her here, they weren’t that type of people. That’s why she went with them without question when they called. Now that they didn’t have to worry about the data being wiped, Laura and Remy could rescue her even. Now wouldn’t that be a sight to see?

It was hard to think, that could probably be accredited to both the blood loss from when they grabbed her from the roof and the cold. That was okay though she just...Just needed to stay awake until they got here. Darcy couldn’t fight her way out, she wasn’t Maria or Natasha who could choke a man out with their thighs with a bullet in each leg. Darcy Lewis was not that sort of badass, right now she ended up being the weak link in this.

(Keys jangled down the hallway with the beat of heavy steps, it should worry her but her mind is working too slowly right now.)

No...No that wasn’t right either. What was it her father used to say when she hit her head?

_“Did you break the counter Darcy?” he would ask her as she cried. “Good, we got lucky this time, you’re so damn hard headed I’m more worried about it than you.” Then he would ruffle her hair and give her a grin that always made her feel like they were in on a conspiracy together._

Well. If there was anytime to prove him right, it was today.

**Saturday**

_Cold. Afraid. Run._

The last time James had felt this rush of cold fear coursing through his veins he was falling from the train, tumbling into the snow in an onslaught of broken bones and blood. 

Now he was back in the snow, running this time and so very scared. Someone or something was chasing him, though he was not sure what it was he just knew that it was his death if he faltered. He was barefoot, his feet were numb and long hair-- _too long_ \-- kept falling in his face but that seemed like a distant problem now.

 _South_. He needed to go south, even though he wasn’t sure why.

There was a hole hidden by the snow and he felt the sharp pain of an ankle twisting out of place, bones going where they shouldn’t. Down he went, his vision blurring when his head impacted the hard ground. 

New pain from someone grabbing his too-long hair and yanking his head around. He scrambled with numb hands that couldn’t find purchase at whoever had him--but his limbs didn’t have the strength or the will to have much of an impact. Someone snarled down at him, more beast than man and exhausted from the hunt but eyes alight with something James recognized just before he plunged claws into James’ chest.

He gasped for air as he dropped to the ground, hands twitching in the bloody snow as the man’s claws cut into the back of his neck as if he was trying to...to.. _pull the skin from his bones_.

Somewhere a woman screamed. James throat hurt.

It was Darcy’s--no, it was him.

He heard the man walk away leisurely, relaxed and even happy at what he’d done as some of his--her?-- skin dangled loose from neck and shoulders. 

Cloudy eyes, too dry and wind-burnt to cry, looked up to the dark sky where the stars shone vividly before there was nothing but black.

James scrambled out of bed, nearly losing purchase on the floor in his barefeet as he ran for his bedroom door towards Caroline’s room. There had to be people looking for her, people who were closer to Darcy than him, closer to finding her bloody body in the snow and Caroline would know how to contact them.

**Sunday(Bloody Sunday**

Tony Stark was a generous man, beneath his ridiculous facial hair, bravado and oil-stained clothes. On a different day she wouldn’t ask as many favors of him when she’s already eating his food and living in his building rent-free.

Just not today. Today she needed her aunt to lean against while they waited for the jet that held her sister to land, so Tony could get emergency clearance for the plane from Tennessee to New York and accommodations for landing so Darlene could be there for Caroline and Darcy. So this day, her pride was of little consequence. Today, she’d ask as many favors as he’ll allow.

There had been screaming from Jane when Daisy called them, bearing the welcome news that they had found her while also declaring that they would more than likely need to keep Darcy several weeks before she was well enough to travel.

Jane had ripped the phone from Caroline’s hands and told them in no certain terms that they would be bringing Darcy back to the top-of-the-line medical facilities at Stark Tower where she would _doubtlessly_ be better taken care of than the med bay of some bloated plane of Coulson’s.

The sun was only starting to think about creeping over the horizon when Caroline sagged against Jane, who though she was more petite than Caroline seemed so much stronger now while she was stopping her from both physical and metaphorical collapse. The phone sat on the floor between them, eyes glued to it as if afraid they would miss the ring they were hoping for in the next five minutes.

Caroline had graduated top of her class from one of the most prestigious business schools in not just the country but the world. She could learn things quickly and memorize new equations and facts at a glance, but this? She wasn’t ready for this. Someone had sunk claws into her best friend’s chest like she wasn’t even a person, during a favor she had undertaken for a _friend_. 

What kind of friends put friends in that sort of danger?

Darlene had not abided by Caroline curled up in the admittedly comfortable chair of what would be Darcy’s ICU room, heaving her up by her shoulders and pulling her into the hall.

“You’re not doing anyone a damn bit of good by moping like a slug. Jane is working like she’s possessed, so you are going to help find me some food and Darcy’s favorite pillows and blankets so she’s comfortable when she gets here.” Darlene kept her talking and moving when she flagged as the hours went by and her visions of Darcy lying unconscious and fading persisted. Made worse by how James had looked when he practically broke the door down banging on it with his metal arm, face pale and frame shaking.

It was past suppertime when Daisy and Jemma came down the hall with Darcy on a gurney, wheels and IVs making too loud a clatter as they pushed her down the hall towards her room where Helen was waiting.

When Jane was worked up and nervous she needed to move, needed to fidget and pace. A bit like Darcy in that way, who found comfort in throwing herself into projects to avoid thinking about what worried her. Part of Caroline wanted to grab Jane as she walks past, tense and twitchy, pull her into a bear hug so they can try and be Okay together.

Except Caroline turned into a sloth when she’s depressed, wanted to hide under blankets in a ball and not move. This time, though, she sits with Darlene’s arm around her waist, leaning against her shoulder as the woman runs her hands through Caroline’s hair, humming all the while. This was not her first time waiting outside of a hospital room while her family was getting situated in a bed, stitches checked and vitals taken. 

On Caroline’s other side sat Clint, just as steady and strong, held her hand tightly whenever she started to tremble. Bless Clint Barton, for not casting her looks filled with pity or trying to make her leave so she wouldn’t see her friend who still hadn’t woken up since they found her. Clint just waited to give her whatever she needed, as little or as much as that was.

They were still waiting to be cleared to go into the room, for Jemma and Helen to finish with her (for now) when two unfamiliar figures came down the hall. One was a man, tall, with jaw-length hair, a trenchcoat and blood-red eyes that almost seemed to glow with a face that would be quite _distracting_ on a normal day. There was a confident grace in his steps that contradicted the seriousness of his clothes that clearly said _mission_ that piqued her curiosity. 

The other was a girl who looked younger than Caroline, but with a stoic face that contradicted the blue and gold in her bangs. She was short, shorter even than Darcy, but there was something about her that made Caroline want to avoid eye contact with her. The pair stopped in front of the room just to the side of the door, and it was Darlene that spoke, startling both Caroline and Clint. “Can I help you folks?”

The girl smiled and while it looked strained it also didn’t seem fake, though it was her companion that stepped towards them to respond. 

“My name is Remy, this is Laura. Darcy was hurt rescuing some of our people.” There was no nonchalance there, but guilt that he was ready to have exposed in front of these strangers. “We owe her a debt, and came to look after her.”

Darlene stood, disengaging Caroline in the process. “My niece is no one’s obligation, and seeing as how she is in this state because of you I don’t see how you bein’ around is gonna do much good.”

Neither of them flinched at the cold accusation in her voice; Remy just straightened his shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “We aren’t here because we feel obligated to, no more than you are.”

Laura came up behind him, touching his arm lightly before speaking. “I only knew her briefly before she helped us rescue a dozen children. I would like the chance to have someone like that as a friend.”

Jane had stopped her pacing, eyes darting from the three blocking the hallway to the room where the others worked on getting her friend comfortable. It wasn’t her approval (or disapproval) that would decide if the two new arrivals were were welcome to stay, it was her family, but she would be damned if there would be any sort of argument or fight to disturb Darcy now.

“Take a chair,” Darlene finally pronounced before taking her seat again, immediately holding out her arm to pull Caroline in close.

On the floor above them James Barnes was handling his concern in a very different fashion. In a room full of monitors with various feeds keyed to Darcy’s room, aerial footage of the the site they had raided, and footage of Victor Creed as he made his way down the streets of Ontario.

~*~


	9. When one door closes

Go on and try to tear me down  
I will be rising from the ground  
Like a skyscraper

_"Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives."_

If you were to ask Darcy, she would tell you that was the first thing she had heard when she regained consciousness six hours after they settled her into her room. It was a comfort, the familiarity of it, even if it made her want to sigh.

The sounds slowly filtered through muffled head, processing slowly because she was obviously on some wonderful pain medication until she could distinguish them. Her aunt, explaining to Laura Kinney the premise behind one of her favorite shows and how her and Darcy would watch it while doing laundry when she was little. 

Remy LeBeau giving poker tips to Caroline and Jane, when she knew for a fact that Jane Foster was an excellent poker player. It was hard to tell if she had told Remy that or if she was still playing along like an academic hermit who knew no better. Caroline could use the help though, she had a habit of getting greedy when the cards came out and lost in the process.

It was so good to be warm that she could not help but fall back to sleep.

If she had asked about the first time she woke up they would have told her the truth, though it would have made Caroline uncomfortable. Remy would have given her a sympathetic look as they explained it, Darlene would have held her hand and looked her in the eyes, while Laura would have stood at the front of the bed and told her it was expected.

Expected, to have her wake up flailing at an attacker that was not there, screaming in hysterics and surging up from the bed like she was possessed. They hadn’t liked drugging her to put her back to sleep, Caroline had cried, but she was tearing out her stitches and her punctured lung really wasn’t up for what she was doing.

It would happen again, inevitably.

Healing takes time.

Time where she breathed into a machine to test the power of her lungs as it progressed, Darcy’s broken ribs were scanned, people came by to sign the cast around her ankle while she tried to refrain from hiding the stitches in her neck. At some point she would have to become acclimated to having a nasty scar there, might as well get used to it early.

It takes a week for the topic of revenge to arise. It happened when Clint, Laura and James were the only ones around her bed. Having him visit had not been as awkward or even as suffocating as she had expected, and while bleeding out in the snow was not something she would want to do again or recommend to anyone, it might have at least had some positive effects in that way.

“We can’t let him get away with this.” James is flipping Darlene’s crochet hook between his fingers like Gambit would flip a card. He seemed to bounce from impossibly calm and incredibly antsy while in her room, and she hadn’t pinpointed what triggered the flip.

Clint, who she had hoped would be the adult about this was not--well, he was a bit at least, “Nat and I are working with Coulson’s team to bring track Viktor and bring him into custody.” He looked to Laura, “We were hoping you would come with us and help us bring him in.” 

Laura kept her eyes on the men that sat across of her, Darcy between them and her hand resting lightly on Darcy’s bed. The contact helped, even at night when the nightmares came, and at least she didn’t feel as bad about her death grip on Laura’s hand as opposed to Caroline or Darlene. She shook her head, “No, I am staying to guard Darcy.”

No further explanation was given, Laura didn’t talk unnecessarily or explain herself if she didn’t have to, it was something that Darcy was learning to appreciate.

James, obviously, was not in the same boat, “Guard her? Surely he thinks she’s dead, he left her bleeding out on the side of a mountain in the snow.”

Laura sighed, “Viktor is sadistic, he likes to play with his food.” It was hard for Darcy to restrain her flinch, but the other woman’s quick glance at her made her think something gave her away. “He may snarl and rage but he is not mindless. He knew she would live, and he knew she was rescued.”

“All the more reason for you to help us bring him in quickly.” James seemed to take issue with Clint’s intention of _bringing him him_ , but no one was discussing the alternative out loud yet. Maybe they just wouldn’t do it around her, trying to protect the ‘wounded civilian’.

Darcy let the tips of her fingers slip under Laura’s, “Greater men than you have tried, the X-Men have failed to hold him, SHIELD has tried and your agency is not what it used to be.” Ouch.

“Then what do you suggest exactly?” Laura’s green eyes shifted to Darcy’s blue ones, holding her gaze for an impossibly long time; assessing, although she couldn’t be what it was she was looking for or if she found it.

Finally she looked back at the men, “We let him come.”

Time. It was all about time.

 **Three days** for Aunt Darlene to remember she brought Caroline some Chanel lipgloss, and it came with a free lecture on the insane cost of it (“I about had to sell Dawn to afford the damn thing Caroline!”). Caroline had squealed and then scoffed with a grin as she applied it, “Totally worth your first born”

Three days for her to wake up from a nightmare with Caroline asleep, Darlene sleeping down the hall (“I’m too old to sleep in these chairs once you’re out of the dark hun, they have a futon next door.”), Laura was apparently as light of a sleeper as all the other assassins and wakes. 

She wasn’t the best at comforting, but she sat on her bed and gave Darcy something real to hold onto, something tangible and solid. Unlike Caroline, Laura didn’t look at her with pity or fright, and it was astonishing what that did for her. When she kicked her blankets off due to sweat she sees the other woman’s eyes drawn to her words and for the first time Darcy asked about Laura’s mark.

“I have none.” She paused, and Darcy waited, “I used to think it was because I wasn’t a person, or didn’t deserve one, didn’t have a soul.”

“And now?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know. It’s just a thing.” When she looked back up to Darcy’s face she looked curious, “Are you with them?”

It was three AM, her heart was still recovering from fear and adrenaline, bed soaked with sweat and her lungs were hurting. No one could blame her for not having the self control to stop from just telling her _everything_. So she did.

About dreams of murdering someone when she was a teenager, how she was too afraid to have sleepovers with anyone but Caroline because she woke up screaming too often. Darcy confided that she felt guilty for how she had spoken to Barnes, but that it was so hard for her to separate him as a person from the impact he had on her life. It wasn’t fair, the looks some members of her family gave her when they thought she couldn’t see, how in the tower she would now only be seen as Bucky Barnes Soulmate to everyone but a few.

What made it worse is she was crying like a kid on the shoulder of a girl who had been forced to murder her own mother and teacher.

It made her feel worse, but with Laura’s arm around her shoulders she still fell back into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

 **One week** for Remy to swear that not everyone from New Orleans knew how to make Jambalaya. Most of her stitches were removed from her neck as Laura watched curiously and Caroline held her hand while pointedly _not_ looking.

 **Two Weeks** for him to win a poker game against Darcy’s Aunt, Tony Stark, Natasha and Clint while still somehow winding up promising to teach them to make his family’s Jambalaya. He’s pretty sure the women have teamed up against him, but has no proof of such an alliance or the motivation to be displeased about it. Darcy insists on hobbling to the kitchen to watch this spectacle.

 **Three weeks** for Caroline to shuffle in late to spent time with Darcy wearing Clint’s faded sweatshirt, Clint coming in shortly after looking relaxed and languid. Darcy is happy for them, truly, Clint deserves someone who will wake up with him in the morning and look after him, and she has never wanted anything more than her sister in all but blood to be steadfastly happy.

Laura’s eyes flit between them while holding Darcy’s hand, as if she knows what went on between Darcy and Clint though no one has told her. 

(Clint asked her once, in private, if him having a relationship with her best friend was going to cause issues. It was an important thing to him, not to come between them in any way. Darcy had patted him on the head and told him it was cute he thought this was the first time that Caroline had Darcy’s sloppy seconds. He had laughed, because the two of them had that sort of relationship where those jokes were more than acceptable before sex became a factor and that hadn’t changed now that it wasn’t.)

 **Four Weeks** for the remaining stitches in her chest where Viktor’s claws had struck to be removed, and the deepest most jagged wound he had made in her neck to be removed. Her cast on her ankle was downgraded as well. Helen gave leave for her to return to her normal quarters, and James was there just in time to help carry her things she had accumulated back to her room.

With her textbooks in hand he looked all the more like an awkward unsure teenager talking to a girl when he asked if he could sit for a bit, know her beyond fleeting dreams, visions and words on his skin.

She accepted. Bleeding out in the snow gave you perspective like that. 

**Five Weeks** for Darlene for gather her things to head on home, telling the girls that the family dog Pancake was starting to mope without her around. A stir crazy Remy offered to fly her home and she accepted even as she complained about the broken hearts he would leave behind in her little town after he left. Darcy would hear later that her second oldest cousin became quite enamored with him during the few days he stayed, though he was nothing if not a gentleman while he was there.

At **Seven weeks** her cast was removed, though she was advised to wrap her ankle during the day still. Laura has just returned from a week long mission with Deadpool and Kate that she doesn’t go into detail about. There is a celebratory party held in her and Caroline’s apartment, and by the end she falls asleep in her recliner while Caroline and James have dozed off on the couch. Laura had already gone to bed two movies ago in the guest bedroom.

With no explanation at all Darcy’s intermittent nightmares combine into an even worse one than usual--memories of being Bucky that she cannot seem to forget no matter how had she tried combined with being hunted in the snow. Instead of leaving her to die she felt herself being thrown into the chair, and she screams endlessly in her dream around the mouthguard and the electricity coursing through her.

The dream shifted and she was lying on the surgical table, above her where she should have seen her arm being replaced with a metal one she instead saw one of the faces of one of the children she had rescued.

 _Failed_ to rescue.

It’s Laura’s voice yelling at Caroline and James to _get out_ , impatient and angry, that woke her finally. Not the cold from her exposed skin where she has shaken off her blanket or the pain where she has hit her ankle on her favorite chair. The pain was a comfort though, and she latched onto it, letting it anchor her to the present.

Laura sat with her until dawn, talking to her methodically and (mostly) steadily about guilt, pain and the loss of control.

 **Nine Weeks** in and an increasingly annoyed Laura is touring prospective apartments with Darcy and Caroline from Brooklyn to Bed Stuy to Williamsburg. She had just returned from another mission (she shut down questions with “a Chinese Vampire and her son”) and had not seemed enthusiastic after meeting the girls’ overly cheerful realtor.

“So has hanging out with us become a vacation from your job or your job?” Caroline asked her, partially joking.

Laura just looked at them before shrugging, “Yes.” Caroline’s jaw dropped but Darcy can see that sort of half-smile on Laura’s face that she has missed the past week and a half she had been gone.

Well. Shit.

Half an hour later they had stopped to get hot dogs, Laura leaving them to stand in line because it was overly packed and loud for her tastes.

“Did you notice she always walks on the outside and keeps you on the inside, like a good boyfriend?” Caroline doesn’t say it like it’s a bad thing, instead it has the air of innocent gossip like they are back in high school. They can do this now; relax and breathe, it’s pretty much official that the threat of Sabertooth is all but forgotten. James and her are getting along, the previous tension in the tower (mostly) dispelled.

Darcy blushed a little, none the less, “She’s practically indestructible, it’s natural.” Caroline is giving her _that look_ , “Besides she’s looking out for me. Like a friend, she looks out for you too.” Darcy wasn’t sure why her heart was thumping loudly hard in her chest. Really. Complete Mystery.

“Sure. You know her ex looks a little like you, I looked him up,maybe she has a type.” Caroline hip checked her and Darcy was seriously worried she was having some weird flashback to standing in line at the concessions stand at a school football game instead of being grown ass adults.

She snorted and rolled her eyes, “Hellion? Only in so much as we are both dark haired and humanoid. You’re reaching Caroline. Laura isn’t interested in me that way. I think I would know, she’s just a really good friend.”

When they walk back over to their escort who was watching the traffic with disdain and _wore Darcy’s sweater_ (good time to notice that Darce) she took her hot dog with a raised eyebrow, “You two know I have super hearing right?”

She raised an eyebrow at their two mortified expressions before she started back down the sidewalk.

At **Ten Weeks** things go to shit. Again. Clint, Laura, Caroline and Darcy are returning from a small celebratory dinner. Darcy isn’t wearing heels because of her still healing ankle (not because, as Caroline had teased her, that her and Laura are basically the same height and that delights her) and everyone is a little tipsy except Laura. It is Darcy’s new everyday, for her to have a flush to her face and a bounce to her step as she leaned against a weapon trying desperately to learn to be a woman while she sang in a ridiculous voice. On her other side her closest friend did the same with a former carnie and assassin, both so comfortable with people who had spent another life killing both those that deserved it and both that didn’t. 

It was so beyond odd at that point, it was normal.

It’s their second night in the new place, and Tony had two entire Florist’s shop’s worth of flowers delivered early that day as Congratulations/punishment for moving out of the tower. It was those, combined with the fact that it was October 1st so Caroline and Darcy were loudly belting _Kidnap the Sandy Klaws_ as they walked that would later be claimed for Laura not noticing who was in their apartment until the door was already open.

Darcy screamed, and Caroline tried to run but there was inexplicably another man in the hall behind them to block their way.

Laura and Clint stepped in front of them as Darcy reached for her taser, Caroline continued to cry, “Oh I’ll leave her for last, that’s my favorite sound.”

_No._

(Darcy saw red. Saw the red of her blood on the snow, saw the discoloration on her face and the circles beneath her eyes because she couldn’t sleep that no one wanted to talk about, saw Caroline’s anxious face, saw the terrified faces of those children who Sabertooth had helped take from their homes.)

Clint tried to stop her from grabbing the pistol he kept tucked in his jeans these days when his bow was too conspicuous, tried to stop her from walking towards a grinning Sabertooth.

(It was reckless, it was stupid and wasteful. It went against every combat piece of advice she had heard from family and friends. Sabertooth had a healing factor very similar to Laura’s--who had shown up back from a mission with bullet holes in her uniform she hadn’t even noticed until Darcy started fretting.)

Caroline screamed, Clint grabbed for her. Laura tried to take the gun from her hands but it was all too little to stop the tide of _red_ in Darcy’s vision.

  
If he wants a fight well now he's got one  
And he ain't seen me crazy yet  
His fist is big but my gun's bigger  
He'll find out when I pull the trigger 


End file.
